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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015339">Drapetomania</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremlin_of_Space/pseuds/Gremlin_of_Space'>Gremlin_of_Space</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Childbirth, Dark Doctor (Doctor Who), Depression, Doctor Who Series 12 Spoilers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Historical Inaccuracy, I Don't Even Know, Kinks, Mating Bond, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Season/Series 12, Spydoc, Stalking, Thoschei, Unplanned Pregnancy, What Have I Done, Wild West AU, alternate universe - wild west, dark!Doctor, doctor kind of has a breakdown, lot of angst, many times, this is a rollercoaster of a fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:15:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremlin_of_Space/pseuds/Gremlin_of_Space</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something wrong with the Silver Lady and the Doctor couldn’t work it out. She was trapped in 1834, alone, powerless. With only her sonic, psychic paper and new friends, she fights her way through time back to her Fam but the Master haunts her every step. Their dynamic keeps changing until one day, he's gone...she's alone.</p><p>Then one day, her past becomes her future; time becoming intricate as the name 'The Timeless Child' becomes an enigma she can never work out without the Master’s help. </p><p>A Wild West gang needs her to be the Doctor, be the savior of the day but she's strayed so far from the path of the righteous that even the call to protect could not bring the Doctor back.</p><p>Perhaps the Master is the one to rescue the Doctor before she becomes the Valeyard once and for all but how can he? He’s the one that’s forced her into this position in the first place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era), The Doctor/The Master, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Desiderium Condition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnThorn/gifts">DawnThorn</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Iktsuarpok:<br/>(N) the anticipation you feel when you are waiting for somebody and keep checking your phone</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Desiderium:</p><p>an ardent desire or longing; especially: a feeling of loss or grief for something lost</p><p>Edited: 2/7/20</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Somewhere in the Nevada Territories, July 31st, 1876</strong>
</p><p>All the Doctor could feel was sheer fucking pain. Sweat dripped off her body and was soaked up by her long, white chemise. Combining all the fluids that now stains it, there was no salvaging it at this point: too much blood and-oh gods, that hurt. </p><p>“I’m…gonna…fucking kill ‘im,” she growled out between clenched teeth as her body preparing to push out new life into the world. A contraction hit her and the Doctor bore down, pushing as hard as she could with a singular thought in her mind: she wouldn’t be alone anymore after this.</p><p>“Althea, you say that every time you go meet him and look at what’s happened,” pointed out Jessie. He was a sweet boy, though by current standards, a little dim-witted. He was kind and caring and had helped her through this challenging period (turned out he was ordered by George, their fearless leader, to keep on eye on her), but right now, his main job was to drive the wagon as straight and smoothly as he could and not to comment on her life choices. Granted, he did have a point. </p><p>As a particular nasty contraction left her breathless and cursing, the Doctor slumped against a body that held her up. She was tired. So, so tired. Not just because of the pregnancy and labour but because of everything else. Immediately after she had graduated from the Academy, she had been running from anything and everything, her legs never once giving up on her. Still, now the exhaustion had finally caught up and in a moment of weakness, she was left pregnant and alone. </p><p>“Keep ya eyes on the road, Jess!” yelled out Florence Meadows, the madam of their little group of wayward women (though the Doctor was merely their physician and not a prostitute). “And keep ya gob shut!” She added as a second thought. Usually, the Doctor would’ve flinched at the harsh voice, but right now, she couldn’t give two shits. The pain was becoming unbearable once again, the weight and pressure in her lower body, reminding that every action had consequences. She was just stupid enough to think fucking <em>him</em> regularly wouldn’t lead to anything. </p><p>The Doctor braced herself against whoever was behind her, gripping their hands so tightly as she pushed that she thought she’d crush their hands (Timelord strength and all that) but they didn’t complain.  Florence gently rubbed her knees and pushed the chemise up, so it bunched around her hips, leaving the Doctor bare and vulnerable to the world. The Timelord hissed as she felt lubricated fingers check both her and the position of the baby. </p><p>“Easy, sweetheart,” that made her flinch. ‘Easy, sweetheart’ were the exact words he said to her as the two of them wrapped themselves around each other, his hips gently thrusting. That was the first time he showed her how pleasurable it was to be female and probably where this whole baby problem started. “You’re nearly there. I can see the head. All you need to do is push.” </p><p>Oh fuck, she’s going to kill the Master next time she sees him.</p><p> She pushed and pushed, her hearts pump faster and faster, lungs burning with exertion, throat becoming raw from her groans and moans. Regeneration had nothing on this. At least that was quick but no, this had to take thirty-six fucking hours and counting to end. </p><p>Then, the pressure inside her was gone and a cry pierced the air. The Doctor felt relieved that it was over, that the once sharp pain had dulled down significantly. </p><p>She cried, whether out of pain or happiness she did not know but for the first time in a long time, she had a family (a closer family than Yaz, Ryan and Graham). The Doctor, the bane of the Citadel, one of the first Timelords to give birth in a long time, held her child against her heaving chest. </p><p>Her daughter was tiny, typical of Gallifreyan newborns (even from looms) and was still covered in fluids, staining the white fabric even more but the Doctor didn’t mind. Her sonic was tucked away safely, alongside her diary so she couldn’t scan and check to see her child was alright, but for now, she stroked brown hair and traced the features of her child. The Master's child. Their child. Truly and utterly timeless. </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Babbage Residence, London, August 24th, 1836</strong>
</p><p>It had been about two years since the Doctor was unceremoniously dumped back in time, away from her fam with no way back. The Master had her taken to the Kasaavin dimension (supposedly so she would die) and she had hitched a ride out with Ada Lovelace (then Byron). The two of them were dazed and the confusion was only amplified when the Master came waltzing in, shooting and shrinking innocents. Very typical of him that was. Gain attention through dramatics and reap the consequences later, this time in the form of a bullet wound to the arm (the Doctor said she didn’t approve but was secretly glad that he was hurt. It was cathartic in a way).</p><p>Now it all seemed like some sort of sick fever dream. Though it was only two years ago, the Doctors previous life of intergalactic travel with her closest people seemed so long ago. Experiences had faded into memories and her short term memory was now filled with etiquette lessons and other trivial activities. </p><p>Having her hearts broken once again by the Master felt like an eternity ago. </p><p>Time in the eighteen-hundreds was indeed slow for a woman. If you were not married, you were expected to attend parties and lunches and little book meetings until you found yourself a man (preferably wealthy and virile but the Doctor had already found hers, he just likes to try and kill her on the regular). It was actually only recently that Ada had wrangled her into dresses and corsets and now, haven given up on the Silver Lady, the Doctor was going to have to join ‘polite society’ also known as, brunch. Reality wrapped itself around the Doctor and pressed hard upon her chest. Now and then, the Doctor couldn’t breathe as everything became too real, too slow. </p><p>She was a Time Lord. She could deal with the long way back, right?</p><p>If only Madame Vastra and Jenny and Strax were around but that was fifty-three years into the future. The Doctor was alone in both spirit, body and mind. An alien all alone in a period where the future was meant to start. Oh, how she would do anything to get out of here. </p><p>She learnt her head against the cold window, rain pelting down against it and a harsh window making the glass shudder in its pane. It felt rather apt, the mean storm that had come up from the south—an oncoming storm she had sensed days before anybody else. How she wished she could be the Oncoming Storm again. The sheer power she had with the title was addicting (that’s why she stopped using it) but even if she used it, she’d be locked up in an asylum for hysteria or some other sexist reason (women couldn’t be more powerful than a man, remember?). The Doctor hugged and tried to curl up as much as the corset would allow (even with the laces done loosely, it wasn’t very comfortable) and began to think about everything, the world outside becoming hazy and unfocused as she retreated into her mind. </p><p>She missed the connection she had with Koschei when they were younger. All that was left was a desolate and decaying thread—a rather good description of their relationship as a whole.</p><p>“My dear Doctor, are you unwell?” A hand gently placed itself on the Doctors shoulder making the Gallifreyan startle when she lifted her head away from the glass and looked up, giving a sad, small smile to Charles Babbage, her friend and host.</p><p>“Nah, I’m alright, thanks,” she replied, her hearts not in it, and Mr Charles Babbage nodded even though he did not look convinced. In all honesty, she wasn’t. Homesick, timesick, spacesick, famsick even. She missed the twenty-first century and she lost her TARDIS. Poor girl is probably worried sick about her thief. There was no time travel in this period except…no that could and would cause a paradox. </p><p>Her eighth regeneration, the one before the war, had a little adventure somewhere in London around about now (plus a few years) she could always hitch a ride? No, the fabric of time and reality was wearing a little thin around twenty-twenty and with the Kasaavin invasion, she couldn’t risk a paradox right now. She racked her brains for any option. Her timeline did seem to focus around London but not for a few more decades and there was no way in Hell that she would beg the Master to take her back (Missy was probably bouncing around at some point but that regeneration was still a sore-spot for the Doctor). They got her in this mess and she’d bloody work it out herself. </p><p>“Doctor? Doctor? Joan?,” oh right, yeah, she was Doctor Joan Smith (thank the gods she had her psychic paper).</p><p>“Ah, sorry, Charles, just got lost in thought again.”</p><p>“You’ve been doing that more frequently, my friend,” his hand moved from her shoulder to grasp her hand as he sat down in front of her. The doctor pulled her hand away, clutching it at her chest as if his touch had burned her. Charles sighed before continuing, “you say that you are alright but you are far from it, my dear. Tell me, and no lies,” he held up a finger as the Doctor moved to interrupt. “Tell me what is wrong in your world.” </p><p>“Everything, Charles. I feel so...so alone and isolated. There’s nobody here that’s like me,” there was one person though, he was just currently destroying Earth and possibly the future of the universe. There were also a few pockets here and there but they are hard to find even with the correct equipment. “Everything is so hard. All the rules and regulations and tea parties. Men have it so much easier than women in this period. You know what? Not once in my entire life have I ever hated tea but now it’s getting this close,” she held up her fingers and squeezed them together. She also hated tea just from the amount of slavery that was involved. </p><p>Charles regarded her with interest and listened with his full attention to her ramblings. He sat there as the woman was brought to the edge of tears before returning to a melancholic state. The cycle of the past week once again repeating itself. </p><p>This woman, the woman he had taken into his own house and treated like a sister, was stronger than any man, woman or child he had met. She carried the weight of years and years of hard work and horrors he couldn’t imagine and yet, she had the brightest smile and sharpest mind he had ever seen. It indeed was a shame to see such a vibrant lioness turn into a mere plaything of a man he had only met once in passing. </p><p>“I’m scared he’s gonna come back, Charles. I can feel him lurking around and skulking and plotting and I can’t do anything. I know he’s up to no good and I’m…I’m powerless. For once, in years, I have nothing,” the Doctors voice broke and a stray tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, turning her head back towards the window. </p><p>“You have us, Ada and I. I also know that the maids are partial to you as well. You may be out of time but you are not alone in this. I promise you,” he placed a hand on her leg. “We will always be here for you.”</p><p>The Doctor didn’t move or even acknowledged the promise. Charles nodded his head and hummed before standing up and leaving the Doctor to her thoughts. </p><p>“But that’s the thing, Charles. Everybody leaves and I’m always on my own,” she whispered to herself and watched water droplets race each other. Lightning flashed in the distance and the Master's maniacal laughter rang in her ears. </p><hr/><p>Later in the day, when the storm had eased, the Doctor had retreated to the study, several tomes on medical procedures precariously balanced on the edge of a mahogany desk. Several papers dotted the area and a tea set cluttered it even more. The Doctor had ink staining her wrist and side of her palm. Sure, she was over two-thousand years old and had medical knowledge far more accurate and advanced than current practices but it still didn’t mean that she couldn’t brush up on it. </p><p>A majority of what was in the books were incorrect and borderline obscene and so, for some unknown reason, she decided to delete into more ‘traditional’ methods (probably boredom). Herbs and roots have always been part of every single culture and they were surprisingly accurate ways to deal with health issues. In the beginning, even the Gallifreyans used plants as medicine. </p><p>Notes were scratched out and once the Doctor was satisfied, she’d write them into a little book she had gotten a year into this fiasco. It was a blue hardback book with blue-green marbled paper for accents. It reminded the Doctor of Rivers diary and it was an impulse buy. Now, it’s purpose was to document the Doctors findings. It was unnecessary but it occupied her hands. </p><p>She was sketching out a <em>Hyssopus Officinalis</em> when there was a knock on the study door. </p><p>“Yes?” and that was the cue for a maid to enter the door. </p><p>“Miss Gordon’s here to see ya, Doc,” she was a mousy girl, no older than twenty. The Doctor immediately took a liking to her when she took up residence with Babbage. The girl reminded her of Yaz, Clara, Donna, all of the women that shaped and influenced this regeneration. </p><p>“Ta, Mary. Let her in.”</p><p>“Yes, doc,” Mary nodded her head, curtsied and stepped aside. Ada floated in and the Doctor rose to greet her. </p><p>“My dear Joan, Mr Babbage has informed me that you have been sulking and being far moodier than is warranted,” Ada’s voice was firm but gentle and the Doctor had a not so pleasant flashback to when Granny four was giving the young Theta Sigma such a hide tanning that it haunts the Doctor for eternity. What had happened for that reaction? Oh yeah, a series of jokes with Koschei.</p><p>“Joan? Doctor? Are you even listening,” Ada snapped a few fingers in front of the Doctors eyes and the Timelord blinked a few times. “Mr Babbage was correct. You do need to go out. Thankfully, I have procured us some tickets to the opera tonight.”</p><p>“The opera? Tonight? When?” Gods, why did that make her hearts beat faster? People? No, people wouldn’t be good at that moment—too much noise. </p><p>“Nine o’clock at night,” Ada pulled the Doctor away from the desk even though the Gallifreyan fussed and tried to escape the younger woman’s arm. She was thy unceremoniously whisked away upstairs towards the Doctors boudoir. </p><p>“But Ada, that’s only a few hours away! We can’t possibly get readied at the same time!” Reasoned the Doctor. She was right, though. To bathe, pin hair, apply small amounts of makeup and put on the insane amount of petticoats would easily take up several hours. “Don’t you have to get ready as well?” </p><p>“You cannot worm your way out of this, Joan. I had Mary draw you a bath when I arrived and I also brought my maid,” Ada pushes the Doctor into her room and she was immediately attacked by the two maids, Mary and Jane. </p><p>“You and Charles are a force to be reckoned with when you put your heads together,” huffed the Doctor as her corset was loosened. She was guided towards a large tub once she was fully undressed and the Doctor moans as she sinks into the hot water. </p><p>Nudity was something the Doctor had to overcome to make her life comfortable in this era (this regeneration was very tense when it comes to skin-on-skin) and Mary was all too obliged to help her get used to the ways of the old world. Four years in and she had finally settled into her body. </p><p>“Indeed we are, my friend and we do what we must to ensure your safety. Isn’t that right, Mary, Jane?” The brunette sat on a stool in front of a mirror as Jane brushed out her long hair. Both maids voiced their agreement. </p><p>Mary guides the Doctors head under the water and starts to scrub at your scalp, humming a soft tune. In the space of two years, the Doctors hair had grown only two inches but it was enough to bring a higher contrast between the natural brown and dyed honey blonde. If she were to be here indefinitely, she would need to dye her hair somehow but she didn’t want to. It was one of the last things that tied her to the twenty-first century (her clothing had been safely stored away and her sonic never left her bedroom). If push comes to shove, she could always use henna to make the blonde strands brown once again but henna was rare to come by in eighteen-thirty London. </p><p>An hour and bit later, both Ada and the Doctor were bathed and hair was pinned into place although the Doctors had more decoration that Ada’s (short hair was not in fashion). A knock was heard at the door and Jane quickly ushered in another maid. </p><p>“Package left for you, Miss Smith,” a box was quickly deposited onto the bed and everybody raised an eyebrow at each other. The Doctor wasn’t really a member of society and the only people outside of Charles and Ada who has interacted with the Doctor was a circle of Ada’s friends and their husbands but the last meeting had been months ago. </p><p>Tentatively, the Doctor inspected the box. Plain white, black ribbon and no message. Next, she grabbed her sonic from a bedside table and quickly scanned it. Nobody in the room gave a second thought, after all, Ada was still fainting and her mind transported to the Kasaavin realm and now and then, the household would be treated to a surprise guest of light. The last episode was six months ago but the Doctor was still on edge about everything and anything. The result came back as a normal paper box. </p><p>Sitting on the bed, the Doctor carefully pulled the tails of the bow and slid the ribbon off the box before lifting the lid. A delicate white paper was wrapped around and as she peeled it back, the Doctor gasped.</p><p>“Who gave this to you?” Demanded the Doctor. Her fingers clutched the bedsheets and a chill ran down her spine. Was he watching right now? Panic started to make its home in her chest and the Doctor couldn’t help but wonder to herself, <em>why I am I getting anxious over him?</em></p><p>It was probably some </p><p>“Some delivery boy, Miss, said it was from his master,” replied the maid and the air in the room became tense. In front of the Doctor, inside the box, laid a blue gown, a <em>TARDIS blue</em> gown with gold swirls across the bodice. She couldn’t be bothered (or perhaps she was afraid) to translate the linear Gallifreyan. Probably said some hedonistic words of self-gratification. He was always the narcissist. </p><p>But why was he starting up his little game again? She hasn’t seen him since the Adelaide Gallery but he was infamous amongst the Babbage and Byron houses. After all, he did kill several people that day, was and is linked to the Kasaavin and on top of that, the staff (as well as Charles and Ada now and then) were woken up by the Doctors nightmares (always him dying on the Valiant, of Missy leaving him again, every single plot that nearly had her dead). </p><p>“It’s him, isn’t it, Doc?” Asked Mary and she came to sit beside the Doctor, Ada taking the other side. The two women didn’t touch her, having learnt a long time ago that the woman did not like physical contact. She tried to explain telepathy a while back but it was quickly brushed over. </p><p>The Doctor nodded and she heard the maid hiss out a curse. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Miss. I-“</p><p>“Don’t...just don’t,” interrupted the Doctor. “It isn’t your fault, just him playing his sick mind games.” Gods, she felt fucking catatonic. Is this what he wanted to do to her? Isolate her enough, distance himself from her and eventually make a grand entrance that would leave her in an utter mess. The Master has done that already on Barton’s plane so obviously, he was running out of ideas. It shouldn’t bother her. She shouldn’t let it bother her but it does. The Doctor was terrified in all honesty. </p><p>Jane moved to place the lid back onto the box but Ada stopped her. </p><p>“This is a game of chess, Joan. A game of chess between two brilliant (although one is clinically insane) minds. We must make our move accordingly,” she pressed a quick kiss to the Doctors temples before standing up next to Jane, lifting the dress out of the box. </p><p>“And what? It’s going to be put me in the bloody dress he sent?” The Doctor hissed and Ada just held up a calm, collecting hand. </p><p>“This is all done to provoke you, Joan and he is succeeding. We must make a move that proves that you are unfazed by his antics,” Ada admonished the Doctor once more and with help from Mary, hauled the Gallifreyan to her feet. </p><p>The women tutted when the Doctor would moan her uncertainties and, as a unit, they had her corseted and dressed in fine blue silk. </p><p>“I’ll admit, he’s a total ratbag but he does have a level of taste but…,” the Doctors voice trailed off as she twirled side to side in front of a mirror. The dress itself was decadent and decent, a soft silhouette produced by the floor-length skirts but her shoulders and neck were completely bare. While it was part of the style, it would have caused an uproar on Gallifrey. Gods, he’s made her look a prostitute. </p><p>“What’s wrong, Doc?” Asked Mary as she pulled out a selection of fans and bags that would match the dress. </p><p>“Back home, this,” the Doctor gestured to her exposed shoulders and neck. “Means that I’m…a woman of the night.” She deflated into a nearby chair and Mary tutted, dragging her back up. </p><p>“You’ll wrinkle the fabric, Doc. Now, if you’re feeling uncomfortable, I believe Miss Ada has a lovely lace piece to go around your neck and I can go and grab you a shall?” The Doctor nodded and Mary went off in search of the items. </p><p>In all honesty, the Doctor was eerily reminded of home. Having people serve her, help her get dressed. Go out to fancy events at the spur of the moment. It was like she was eighty again but this time, no Koschei to accompany her. No Koschei to hold her and dance with her until the sunrise. No Koschei to pull her back into his bed when she tried to leave. No more giggling like school girls when they fled from the party for far more <em>enjoyable </em>activities. Just, no more. </p><p>Her hearts ached at bittersweet memories</p><p><em>Probably for the best I try not to think about him</em>, thought the Doctor and then smiled, although it was a little false when Mary came back to her side. </p><hr/><p>The first half of the opera went by smoothly and the Doctor enjoyed being outside again. The music was soothing and melancholic almost as if it was speaking to the Doctors soul. Her hearts thrummed in response and the Timelord shared the singer's loneliness and grief. After all, she’s had over two-thousand years of it.</p><p>The break was far noisier and was defiantly one of the more unpleasant moments of her day so far. Ada deposited the Doctor on a seat beside the balcony as the woman went to collect some drinks for both of them. It was intriguing just sitting there and watching people interact with each other. Groups rarely interacted with each other unless somebody was being introduced than two would merge into one. Sometimes, groups would divide in search of different conversations. All in all, it was entertaining. </p><p>“Didn’t they ever teach you it was rude to stare,” came a breathless voice behind her. Before she had the chance to reply or call out to Ada, she was pulled out onto the balcony and pushed against the wall of the darkest area. She didn’t need light to see who it was. </p><p>“Master,” her voice was calm and collected but her body was ready to fight. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Oh, come on. No ‘it’s been two years’ or ‘how’s my fam?’ Have two years been enough to change you?” His voice was mocking and he kept encroaching on her body space, face almost deliciously close. The Doctor turned her face away from him so she couldn’t look him in his eyes. If she did…who knows what would happen.</p><p>She was silent. He huffed. </p><p>“I must say, this dress looks better on you than I expected, however,” his hand trailed to her shoulders, pushing off her shawl and his fingertips then traced the lace that donned her neck. “I bet this looks better on the floor,” he whispered into her ear before pressing a kiss against her neck. </p><p>She tried not to let his burning touch effect her but the somewhat familiar heat had started to pool between her legs and she moaned when he bit down on her shoulder. The Master repeated on the other shoulder but it was far more vicious than the previous one, the pain sharp enough to bring the Doctor out of her haze. </p><p>“You..you just stop with this,” her voice was shaky and she pushed him away. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” The Doctor tried to head back into the room but the Master quickly had her bent over the balustrade with a hand wrapped around her throat. His eyes were manic as his grip tightened and the Doctor grasped at his hands. At this rate, her respiratory bypass would kick in any second. </p><p>“I think you’re lying to me, Doctor. You do need me, you’re bored here,” he moved to press a leg between her thighs and even though she had miles and miles of fabric on, she felt his thigh press exactly where she needed it. </p><p>Sexual desire was something that the Doctor had never really paid attention to; however, when they were younger, Koschei could draw it out and caress until Theta couldn’t stand it, begging to stop after hours of overstimulation. When they were older, the Master and the Doctor would fuck merely to screw with each other's minds and bodies; it was another way to continue their game. As they parted ways indefinitely, the Doctor never really felt attracted to anybody else. If push comes to shove and she couldn’t deny the need for an orgasm any longer, images of the two of them would push her over the edge. Recently though, she had felt too tired and honestly depressed to even think about masturbating but, with the Master once again in her presence (and being his usual domineering self) arousal and lust came flooding back in. Literally. </p><p>The Doctor couldn’t give in to her desires once again and had to keep a level head. This man was dangerous and could obliterate this entire building in a mere second (he could also destroy her whole sense of reality if he just pressed a little- no, bad thought, bad thought) and so the Doctor had to find a way out of his grip. </p><p>A commotion was heard indoors and it only took one cry of ‘Miss Byron!’ for the Doctor to come up with a plan. </p><p>“Ada Byron,” she panted and thankfully, he loosened her grip so she could speak. “She’s still going back to the Kasaavin Dimension. You don’t need her anymore. You’ve won.” The Master laughed at that, all teeth and mania. </p><p>“And what, you’re gonna offer yourself up instead.” He took her silence as the answer and threw her onto the floor. The Doctors hand immediately went to her throat as she gulped in air. Her hands were scrapped and burning from the force and her hip ached severely. The Master crouched down in front of her, tilting up her face with a finger under her chin. “I haven’t won yet, sweetheart.” Oh fuck, why did that make her shiver? “I think a few more years here will make you far tamer.”</p><p>What? No, he couldn’t leave her here. The Doctor moved to object but he had already pulled out his TCE and with a wink and a smile, he was gone. </p><p>“Asshole!” She screeched into the cold air as she pounded the floor. Fuck, that had hurt. Not just her hand but he left her alone again just to make her docile and obedient. When they were younger, he had loved her fire and passion but now, he wanted her differently. </p><p>She was so going to kill him next time they meet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Wanweird Crisis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wanweird:</p><p>An unhappy fate</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Babbage Residence, September 3rd, 1836</strong>
</p><p>After that night at the opera, Ada no longer fainted at random intervals and after a quick scan from her sonic, the Doctor could safely say that the house (and Ada) were safe from any more Kasaavin visits. It was a small price to pay for the Masters constant stalking.</p><p>The incident had potentially changed their dynamic once again. The Master’s hand on her throat and his knee pressing right against her were the culmination of nearly a century’s worth of tension and anxiety. The Doctor went from being the dominant one in their relationship back to being the submissive; it was just like when she was Pinstripes and he was Saxon. When the Doctor was the grumpy Scotsman, he had ignored Missy as much as he could. Thought that his clinical attachment to her would better her ‘rehabilitation’ but all it lead to was the new Master becoming obsessed once again with the new Doctor in every single time. It was like a child trying to gain the attention of its guardian and then throwing a hissy only this time the tantrum involved people and their lives.</p><p>Maybe this time she was the one needing repentance. After all, it was partly her fault (ok, maybe a majority of it is her fault, but instead of scheming and leaving him behind he could have at least talked to her).</p><p>The stalking started somewhat mild. A hired lackey, always wearing a purple feather, followed at a distance, a hundred metres at least and the person changed every outing. They would jot down what the Doctor assume was time and place whenever she stopped walking. She was also tracked whenever she was travelling by carriage; thus, the Master was actively seeking out people who were both educated and wealthy to some degree (not many people owned a carriage nor had the money to pay for an entire day worth of taxi fairs). The question was, what his aim?</p><p>The Doctor couldn’t go anyway in time nor space; she was essentially imprisoned in nineteenth-century England. Even if she did go off-grid, he could easily track her down by the drumming beat of two hearts (chuck that in a TARDIS and bobs your uncle; one match in the system). So, if he could track her effectively, with as little energy used, then why was he burning through resources so quickly? To scare her into submission. The Master did say she wanted her more ‘tame’, the prick. And the Doctor did have to admit it was making her more paranoid than usual.</p><p>On top of being his ‘best enemy’, the Doctor was also female and she was by no means one of the more vulnerable members of society but that didn’t stop her from feeling more threatened than usual. Having a man follow you endlessly would make any woman feel unsafe and even though she regularly checked the corner of her eye and turned her head, she still felt uneasy. Her stalkers wouldn’t stop even if they were spotted. Nothing stopped them until she was back inside the Babbage or Byron residences.</p><p>Today though, something was different. Specifically, <em>someone</em> was different.</p><p>When the Doctor stepped outside, dressed in a common, plain grey dress, her initial observations of the street did not indicate any purple feathers. She took a sigh of relief and closed the door behind her. All she needed was a quick breath of fresh air and she’d head back in to assist Charles with whatever he was pursuing now. It was when she turned around that she noticed <em>him</em>. The Master was leaning against a lamp post across the street, clad in purple and the blasted book in his hand. He lifted it, a maniacal grin on his face as he waved her on.</p><p>That book contained every destination she’d been to and he’d have easily spotted her favourite places.</p><p><em>Just go back inside. He won’t follow you in there. It’s not part of the game</em>, the rational part of her brains commented and the Doctor turned back to unlock the door, keep an eye on the Master. As her hand grazed the doorknob, he held up a finger and wagged it side to side as if chastising her. The Doctor let her hand drop back down to her side and the Master nodded in approval before motioning her to continue with her walk.</p><p>With a shaky sigh and a nervous swallow, the Doctor started to walk. Every second breath she was looking behind her and every time he was shadowing her, a nonchalant expression on his face. The bastard was enjoying this too much. The Doctor continued to a little bookshop she had fallen in love with but as soon as she turned the street, a purple feathered hat greeted her sight.</p><p>She tried not to lose her cool but the drumming of her heartbeats increased, her body automatically going into fight or flight mode. She stopped and turned around sharply, trying not to let her growing fear show on her face. The Master was only a few metres away (close enough that the Doctor could smell his spicy cologne) and he merely waved her on with a bored look on his face.</p><p><em>Play the game and hopefully, you’ll find out what he wants</em>, reasoned part of her but the other half just wanted to submit to him right then and there. Whether it was like of his attention the past two years or the increased lust she felt towards his recent regeneration, the Doctor just wanted to feel his touch once again.</p><p>No, she couldn’t submit. Not now. Not ever.</p><p>
  <em>You want to play, Master? Then let’s play chase.</em>
</p><p>With steady footfalls, the Doctor swerved through streets and lanes, trotting along unfamiliar paths. As she turned to the left, she caught a glance of the Master trying to catch up with her, the lackey from the bookstore in his wake. With a smirk, the Doctor took off at an un-ladylike pace and with the confidence of a Timelord winning, she continued to drag the Master along.</p><p>It was probably a few solid miles of turns and backtracked footpaths that the Doctor was starting to feel exhausted. She was continually calculating the change in velocity between her and the Masters posey, how far she’d have to run to gain distance between them. It was only when she took a quick break to catch her breath did she realise where she was.</p><p>
  <em>Park Street</em>
</p><p>A memory was brought forward and the Doctor smiled.</p><p>
  <em>”It’s on this street. I am certain,” stated Clara as Rigsy rubbed his arms and the Doctor surveyed the area.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’re very close,” he remarked and the trio took off once again.</em>
</p><p>Trap street. Brilliant. The Misdirection Circuit was good enough to confuse a Timelord. The perfect place to wait out the Master.</p><p><em>Just gotta count out the steps</em>, she thought and after a quick check of distance, she started counting.</p><p>O<em>ne, two, three, four…seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-</em></p><p>She stopped. What number was she at again? Gods, it slipped her mind so quickly. The Doctor took a few steps back.</p><p>O<em>ne, two, three, four, fi-</em></p><p>There it was again.</p><p>The Doctor turned her head. She definitely needed to congratulate whoever decided the Circuit. There in front of her was a dark alleyway that she didn’t see until now.</p><p><em>I’ve seen this exact trap street before so my mind must’ve known where it was. </em>She wasted no time in picking up her skirts and sprinting down this alleyway, not checking to see if the Master followed her. The sounds of the street disappeared and the Doctor was relieved at the quietness. She was a hundred yards into the alleyway when she was stopped by a tall stranger shrouded in a dark cloak.</p><p>“Sorry, Missus but it seems like you’re lost,” their voice was deep and a hand reached to grab her upper arm.</p><p>“No, don’t,” the Doctor wrenched her arm back. “I seek asylum.” The figure stopped and quirked their head to the side.</p><p>“What species are you? You look human.”</p><p>“I’m a Timelord called the Doctor. Tell Ashildr (wait no, she doesn’t go by that name anymore) tell Lady Me that I am here,” she turned her head and saw shadowy figures at the entrance of the alleyway. They were confused and the leader was making angry gestures to his underlings. Fuck, he was so close. “Hurry!” She pleaded to the figure.</p><p>Three seconds and forty-five milliseconds passed before the figure stood to the side and the Doctor ran past them, straight into the heart of the trap street.</p><p>Lady Me was waiting for her, two armed escorts at her side and no black swirls on her neck. <em>So, she hasn’t met the Quantum Shade yet.</em> Her appearance was pretty standard for this era even if the gold and red brocade clearly illustrated her position in both the camp and the outside world. She looked confident in her skin and the Doctor couldn’t help but feel uneasy. When would the Shade come in? Obviously, there was a turning point that made Me unsure of her position and her ability to maintain control.</p><p>“Doctor,” greeted Lady Me and the Doctor was torn between anger or gratitude. This woman had caused Clara’s death through a stupid ploy but she had also provided sanctuary as well. “This,” Me waved a hand up and down at the Doctors haunched over the body, “is a surprise.”</p><p>“Yeah…tell me about it,” puffed out the Doctor as she struggled to catch her breath. With her adrenaline dropping, the Doctor found it harder and harder to breathe with every gulp of air. <em>I bet it’s the bloody corset</em>, she thought and tried to stand up straighter. Her legs nearly gave out and one of Me’s escorts quickly rushed to her aid, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’ll explain everything in a bit but can we please go somewhere comfortable before my bypass kicks in?”</p><p>“Of course. This way,” and the small group strolled back into the dark recess of the refugee camp.</p><p>The Master, however, was furious. The Doctor was by far faster than him and had immediately outmanoeuvred him. As soon as he turned onto Park Street, she had vanished into thin air and none of the pathetic humans he had ‘hired’ saw anything.</p><p>“She just upped and vanished, Master sir.”</p><p>“She couldn’t have gotten a teleport so no, she hasn’t vanished,” he stood around and cursed in Gallifreyan. The group of apes stared at him, awaiting orders. “What are you waiting for? Find her!” They all scrambled away from him in different directions and the Master huffed, placing his hands on his hips. He could just go back to his TARDIS and track her down that way but he did love the thrill of the hunt. He spun on his heels and headed off in a random direction.</p><p>Unbeknownst to him, he had stood directly in front of the trap street and was so close to his prize.</p><hr/><p>“-And you know what? If I hadn’t been so idiotic and <em>blinded </em>by his act, I wouldn’t be here in the first place!” The Doctor threw her hands up in the air before collapsing into a low chair, spreading her legs out before her. “I just miss them,” she rubbed her hands over her face and pushed back her hair. There were no more pins and corsets for the moment as the Doctor was in breeches and a shirt. Her ribs were thankful for the reprieve and her scalp now ached dreadfully from the hairstyle. Blast society and it’s expectations.</p><p>“You sound like you’ve been through the wars then, Doctor,” Me replied as she passed a cup of coffee to the Doctor and placed a plated slice of cake on a small table between them.</p><p>“You could say that,” the Doctor sipped from her cup. “Now, what about you? A few of your on wars, yeah? Been here once so I know it’s a refugee camp.”</p><p>“How could you-ah, yes. Time travel. You are after the Scotsman then?” The woman looked startled at first before a knowing glint was in her eye. The Doctor nodded and Me sighed in thought. “Where do I begin?”</p><p>“How about you start at the point where I can get in touch with the Shadow Proclamation,” advised the Doctor, her voice becoming much lower than usual. Her patience was wearing thin. She had managed to get away from the Master and now she was so close to getting back to the Fam.</p><p>“You do not beat around the bushes, do you?” nervously chuckled Me. The woman avoided the Doctors eye and shifted uncomfortably. <em>You’d have thought after being around for a thousand years, she’d be a better liar.</em></p><p>“No, I don’t. Not when the future of humanity is possibly being erased as we speak.” The Doctor leant forward, resting her forearms on her knees, making the space between them smaller.</p><p>“The thing is…We are not in communication with the Shadow Proclamation.” The Doctor let out of a string of curses.</p><p>“How could I forget? It’s not exactly legal this place,” she moaned as her hopes about going back home were crushed. “How about the Time Agency? Any run-ins with an agent? How about the C.I.A?”</p><p>“If you are searching for a vortex manipulator, I would give up if I was you. We have nobody came to us from any agency.”</p><p>“What about the refugees? Most of them are from the future so how have they come here?” Gods, she could feel herself starting to panic again. She couldn’t stay any longer here. Especially with the Master chasing her and keeping tabs on every single movement she makes.</p><p>“We have another trap street in Cardiff, by the rift. Families manage to get through and we move them down here,” explained Me and she stood up, walking to the Doctors side. “You are a refugee yourself. Your home was destroyed because of war, Doctor and so, I must look after you. Rest and we will continue to talk later when you’ve thought about what you need.”</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>September 4th</strong>
</p><p>The Doctor wasn’t focusing on anything. Hell, she hadn’t even thought twice about the room she was in apart from the fact that there was a bed and an armchair by a fire (even though England was in its summer, it was never warm enough for the Doctor so she would always be grateful for the extra warmth). Overall, she felt numb once more.</p><p>It was a vicious cycle. Her melancholy made her hunt out hope and once she found it and then lost it, the Doctor was thrown back into a state of depression. Then, the light would shine through once more and the cycle repeated over and over again.</p><p>Me had asked what she needed and the Doctor couldn’t think of anything practical. Emotional, there was a lot of things she needed: the Fam, her TARDIS, even the Master. Even though he was scaring the living shit out of her right now, he was rather attractive this time round and their brief one-on-one interaction was enough to stimulate her mind. His cologne, Rassilion, his cologne was like ambrosia. She didn’t think of it at the time (mildly terrified at the time, she was) but gods, he smelt amazing. It drew her in, stimulating her senses and reminded her of all the times the two of them had met in Arcadia and had meandered amongst the spice markets in the middle of the night.</p><p>The Doctor smiled against her will and curled up in the armchair. Koschei was so sweet back then, even with the drumming in his head and he had courted Theta so gently and carefully it was hard to say no when he had asked if Theta would be his beloved and the two had bonded their minds that night. A once brilliant and warm spot in the Doctors mind was now cold and silent. It was a part of her that would always remain dead.</p><p>“Gods, we so naive back then,” she muttered to the air. When the Doctor fled Gallifrey, their bond was stretched far past the limit and it in tandem with the Masters hurt, it didn’t take much to snap it. Now, their game was to make up for the loss of connection, neither one willing to admit mistakes (mainly the Doctors) and wrongdoings (the Masters). The adrenaline and endorphins soon became an addictive way to ignore their hurt feelings and both were fine with the arrangement. The Master would come up with a plan the Doctor would stop and both would occasionally have a quick fuck. That was it but the most recent escapade quickly made the Doctor fear him. Not the fake fear that made her hearts pump in want but a genuine, I-could-die-because-of-him fear. He was finally out to kill her and he might actually succeed.</p><p>What the Doctor needed was to become invisible to the Master.</p><hr/><p>The plan was simple but highly effective though a little dramatic for her tastes.</p><p>Under a disguise, the Doctor would be smuggled to Cardiff’s trap street and from there she’d be shipped off to Ireland. Some low-level technology would be used to hide both her telepathy as well as her biosignature and the Doctor, being the genius she is, had managed to hook it all up to her sonic and so, if she had her sonic on her at all times, the tech would run interference. It’d last for perhaps a century or two? Definitely long enough to find a way out of this hell hole.</p><p>“Are you ready, Doctor?” It was one of Lady Me’s armed guards and the Doctor didn’t acknowledge the question for a moment. She was just staring at her reflection in a mirror.</p><p>The thing about having a range of species in one spot was the range of skills they shared between them. One species, the Anzanti, were renowned for their cosmetic expertise (their whole culture was based upon physical beauty) before their planet was caught up in the middle of a galaxy-wide war. Their people were quite generous, more so after the war and so when an Anzanti heard about the Doctor needing to hide (word travelled fast around the camp) they had immediately offered their expertise.</p><p>Timelords weren’t meant to be attached to their physical appearance but this…this was a lot.</p><p>Nothing much had changed but her blonde hair was gone. Instead, the Doctor was now a natural brunette (natural? How the bloody hell could she have regenerated with blond hair that’s naturally brown?) with mild waves that tumbled down to her hips. The Doctor didn’t know what the Anzanti had that made hair grow that long in an hour but she was grateful while miffed about it.</p><p>Her last tie to the Fam was now burning in a fire. Gods, she looked different.</p><p>“I know this a lot, Doctor, but you just be strong. Not just for your companions but for yourself,” Lady Me interrupted the Doctor’s thinking and placed a hand on her shoulder. The Doctor shrugged it off. “Do not be afraid.”</p><p>The Doctor had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.</p><p>
  <em>”Let me tell you about being scared,” he was crouched in front of a young Danny Pink. He grasped the boy's hands. “Your heart is beating so hard. I can feel it through your hands. There’s so much blood and oxygen pumping through your brain. It’s like rocket fuel.”</em>
</p><p>Being scared is natural. A response that prepares your body to fight its way out or run as hard as it could away from danger. Right now, the Doctor was in danger because of the Master.</p><p>With her jaw set firm, she picked up a brush and started to brush through her hair, struggling at the sudden change in length before sectioning parts.</p><p>
  <em>”Right now, you can run faster and fight harder. You can jump high than ever in your life and you are so alert it’s like you can slow down time.”</em>
</p><p>Braiding was a simple skill she had learnt because of River and found great ease in twisting and plaiting her hair. In the outside world, time flowed by at its usual pace but in the Doctors mind, each twist felt slower than the previous and she felt like she was finally killing off the happy, bubbly, rainbow loving woman she was years ago. Back then, she could command a room with just her presence. Now, she was prey.</p><p><em>”What’s wrong with scared? Scared is a </em>superpower<em>! It’s </em>your <em>superpower. There is danger in this room and guess what, it’s </em>you<em>!”</em></p><p>Realisation was starting to bloom in her mind as she slipped a pin into her hair.</p><p><em>”Do feel it? Do you think </em>he<em> feels it? You think he’s scared?”</em></p><p>“Oh! Everything makes sense now,” the Doctor exclaimed as an idea settled in her mind.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?” inquired Me. The Doctors red skirts flared out as she twisted towards Me.</p><p>“What does an animal do when it’s scared?”</p><p>“It…lashes out! Doctor, do you believe the Master is scared?” Me was buzzing with energy and the Doctor shared her feelings. She nodded. “This changes a lot.”</p><p>“Yeah, it does.”</p><p>“What about the plan? Do you wish to continue with it?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh right, yeah, I was running away. Again.</em>
</p><p>“No, I need to find out what he’s scared about.” <em>Curiosity did kill the cat</em>, muttered the logical part of her brains. <em>But satisfaction brought it back</em>. “If it gets too much, I can always go off-grid. Got what I need,” the Doctor held up the bag that contained her sonic and the attached technology.</p><p>“If you are sure…” nobody else in the room seemed to be entirely sure of the change in focus. Many were refugees because of the Master and so it was an un-acknowledged agreement to help whoever was affected by the Master and his plots.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Then you best be going. I cannot let you pursue this here.” The escorts beside Me started to guide the Doctor out of her room as she collected her hat and shawl, down the stairs and into the street. It wasn’t necessary. The Doctor was ready to face him once again and her feet made a steady <em>click-clack </em>against the cobble path. They were at the entrance to the real world when the Doctor turned towards Me.</p><p>“Thank you, Ashildr, for everything and in the future, please, I beg of you, think twice,” it was the only piece of the future the Doctor was willing to hand out. Maybe she could perhaps avoid Clara dying (and subsequently brought back to life).</p><p>With a nod to the group, the Doctor took a deep breath and stepped out onto Park Street. She tied on her bonnet and started to walk away from the trap street entrance, away from an alien society. She had missed being with other intergalactic travellers but they were far safer that she wasn’t there. He’d have found her eventually by tearing the place down.</p><p>As she turned the corner, a purple feather caught her eye. With faux confidence, the Doctor walked past the lakey who didn’t even look once in her direction. They were searching for a plain-looking blonde, not an upper-class brunette.</p><p><em>The Anzanti was right,</em> thought the Doctor. <em>An outfit does make a world of difference.</em></p><p>She encountered no problems as she walked to the British Museum. Being outside was safer rather than inside (more escape routes) and she found a nice bench to sit down. With a deep breath, she let down her mental shields and cautiously sought out the Master.</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">‘Contact.’</span> </em>
</p><p>The Doctor gasped and shivered as she heard his rough voice in her heard.</p><p>
  <em>‘Contact.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">’You’ve been gone a whole day. How’d you do it?’</span> </em>
</p><p>The Doctor didn’t give the Master an answer and he retaliated by pressing himself further into her mind. It hurt and the Doctor rubbed a hand up to her temple in a pathetic attempt to ease the pain. She built up more durable walls around her memories and only gave him access to her senses. It was all she could handle with at the moment.</p><p>
  <em>‘Old School? Rather fitting for this era, don’t you think?’</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>‘Fine, you’re not going to tell me.’</em> </span>
</p><p>The constant pressure in her head eased off but a different kind of pressure, one on her body, replaced it. It started off as a light compression around her throat, his grasp on her mind mimicking the weight of his fingers. It brought back feelings from <em>that</em> night and an aching wet heat started to gather once again between her legs. She pressed her thighs together to try and appease her arousal but it only made the Master chuckle.</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>‘Oh, you like that in this body. You naughty, naughty girl.’</em> </span>
</p><p>His psychic grip around her throat become much tighter and now the Doctor was struggling for air. Her pleasure soon turned into panic and she tried to push him out of her mind but it only made him press harder. She couldn’t get enough oxygen in one moment and then the next, she didn’t need it. Gods, he was irritating.</p><p>
  <em>‘You made my bypass kick in.’</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>‘Oops.’</em> </span>
</p><p>He didn’t sound apologetic at all and the Doctor was getting more irritated with every passing second he was in her mind. Might as well go all in.</p><p>
  <em>‘I know you’re scared of me and I don’t know why.’</em>
</p><p>There was a pause and she could hear their heartbeats synchronise. The constant <em>dum-dum-dum-dum</em> was maddening in the space of a minute; she couldn’t fathom the torment he went through from the drums.</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>‘I can’t tell you.’</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Why?’</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>‘You must learn it your-‘</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <em>‘How can I learn about what’s got you scared when I’m stuck here? I have nothing, Master. Nothing.’</em>
</p><p>The Doctor was getting aggressive, the drumming getting louder.</p><p>The Master didn’t respond.</p><p>
  <em>‘Fine, you’re not going to tell me? Then I guess this conversation is over.’</em>
</p><p>She reached inside her bag as she also wrapped her mind around the weak bond that had formed, compressing hard enough that he hissed into her mind.</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">‘Wait, don’t go.’</span> </em>
</p><p>The Master played with her senses once more though this time, it was to press an image of his hands against her face as if he was cradling her cheeks. A thumb rubbed against her cheekbone and the Doctor sighed into the contact.</p><p>‘<span class="u">I don’t think I could handle the bond breaking again.’</span></p><p>His sorrow seeped into every cell of the Doctors body and she found herself shedding a tear as her eyes closed and her grip on the bond relaxed ever so slightly. It felt so, so good to be connected with him again. All she wanted right now was to be in his arms again but she couldn’t. She had people to get back to and he’s just gone absolutely fucking crazy again. The Master was endangering her life and the lives of her friends once again and it was too much to bear. Resolve filled her once more as the Doctor accepted the truth.</p><p>
  <em>‘Kosch…’</em>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em>‘Thete…’</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <em>‘I’m sorry.’</em>
</p><p>The Doctor’s grip became too tight and the bond shattered in her psychic grasps, shards falling once again in her mind. As soon as the connection was severed, she activated her sonic and all presence of the Master's mind was gone from her mind and the air. A migraine started to grow inside her head and the Doctor pressed a hand against her mouth to repress her sob.</p><p>It felt like it had all those years ago. Fuck, why does she keep doing this herself, to him?</p><p>She didn’t realise she had started to properly cry when a gentle voice broke the silence.</p><p>“Mademoiselle, are you alright?”</p><p>The Doctor looked up, eyes blurry from tears, and saw a kind-looking woman with brown hair. She was dressed head to toe in black, a mourner. Perhaps a widow?</p><p>“No,” replied the Doctor. Her voice was shaky and she knew the migraine would make her start crying again.</p><p>“What ‘az ‘appened?” The woman sat down next to the Doctor, pulling out a handkerchief and gently wiping away tears.</p><p>“I lost the love of my life.” The Doctor didn’t even think of how fucked up everything else was and merely focused on how her hearts ached because of her actions. She missed him so much.</p><p>“I share your pain. My ‘usband died last year,” the woman commented. “Come, you need to eat. Crying always make me ‘ungry.” With a gentle arm, the widow lifted the Doctor to her feet and guided her away from the bench.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Kosch. What have I done?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys! Thank you for the Kudos and the comments. Really keeps the motivation up. Stay safe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Misslies Matter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Misslies:</p><p>The Scottish dialect word misslieness means “the feeling of solitariness that comes from missing something or someone you love.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stranger was very nice to the Doctor. Their arms were linked and the stranger chatted on about the weather and gossip, filling the space the Doctor couldn’t. Usually, she’d be fine with talking however, now she couldn’t even think up a single response to whatever the lady was asking.</p><p>“Mademoiselle, I ‘ave been rude. What is your name?” The Doctor was startled for a second and tried to gather her thoughts even though the migraine was making it rather hard.</p><p>“Um…Joan Smith…,” was her slow reply.</p><p>“You do not sound sure, Miss Smith. Anyway, I am Lady Marie-Jeanne Thomas.” The Doctor was guided by Marie-Jeanne into a ladies-only tea room.</p><p>It was a rather frilly and lacy room with plenty of plants dotted around. A young lady escorted the pair to a table in a corner. The Doctor wrinkled her nose as she was hit with the heavy perfumes of the neighbouring table and was half tempted to use her bypass. The Master wouldn’t even dare to come and look for her in here but knowing him and his tenacity to hunt her down, he’d eventually make his way to here.</p><p>“So, Joan, can I call you Joan?” The Doctor nodded, still not wanting to talk more than necessary. “‘ow about you tell me about your story?”</p><p>“Where to begin?” muttered the Doctor as she took off her hat and rubbed the back of her neck. The young girl that escorted them earlier returned with a pot tea and after having been given a cup, the Doctor shakily brought it to her lips and tried to sip. She failed and gulped the cup down. The tannins started to help with the migraine and the tea itself soothed her throat. Hell, even the warmth from the china in her hands eased her nerves. <em>Tea truly does make everything better</em>, mused the Doctor as she looked at Marie-Jeanne who was amused.</p><p>“I am interested as to what you will do with the cake,” teased the Frenchwoman and the Doctor gave a small, sheepish smile in return. If they had met at another time, the Doctor would’ve asked the woman to join her across the stars. Marie-Jeanne oozed friendliness and joy that not many other women here seemed to share. With a small gesture, Marie-Jeanne encouraged the Doctor to start.</p><p>“We were childhood friends. Always getting into trouble and couldn’t be torn apart.” Laughter haunted visions of red grass in the Doctors mind; images of muddy footprints in dark hallways were brought forward; hands clasped in a forgotten barn. “When we grew up and went to school, you could say we were infatuated with each other,” there was a nostalgic glaze over her eyes and the Doctor couldn’t help but lose herself in the memories. It eased the pain, in a way.</p><p>“Gods, we were both meant to marry somebody else when we left school but…but that didn’t matter to us,” the Doctor looked up to Marie-Jeanne, almost as if she was begging to know if what the young Theta and Koschei did was fine. Technically, they had married each other, through a mate bond between their minds but neither family saw that as a legitimate marriage. They were wedded to different people twenty years later. “He was my first for everything and I mean it, <em>everything</em>.” Sometimes, she could still feel the heat of their first kiss on her lips and deep in her hearts, she remembered the first time they had made love.</p><p>It was rather sweet, to be honest, the first time though, it did start because of an argument. Really, she should’ve known back then how their relationship would go.</p><p>
  <em>”Kosch, what are you doing here?” Theta turned around, startled at his friend's sudden appearance. He quickly wiped away tears and sniffed into his sleeve.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I asked around, tried to find where you went and low and behold, the grand Theta Sigma ran away,” Koschei retorted. He walked over to the straw bed that Theta was curled upon. He crouched in front of his friend and brushed blond hair out of Theta’s beautiful eyes. “Why’d you run?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How could I not? You humiliated me, Kosch,” mumbled Theta as he rolled over, back facing Koschei. The former didn’t show any response as the latter moved to spoon his closest friend, snuggling his face it the other's neck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I couldn’t hear you. Could you repeat yourself?” replied Theta, head turning so he could look at the other boy from the corner of his eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“One more time.” This time, Theta had a grin spread across his face. Koschei couldn’t help but grin as well, feeling joy coming through the weak bond between the two of them. He turned nudged Theta so that the other boy would turn around and Koschei cupped his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry,” whispered Koschei before kissing his friend, hard. Theta moaned in response as he wrapped his arms around a Koschei’s neck. The elder boy easily pinned Theta onto his back, slipping his hands underneath the others loose shirt.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When the two finally split apart, forehead to forehead, Theta felt a little braver. He tugged at Koschei’s shirt, wanting it off.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Please, Kosch,” he whines and continued to tug at the boy’s clothes. With a giddy sigh, Koschei pulled off his shirt before diving back to Theta’s lips. The two boys instantly sighed into the contact and immediately opened up their bond.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>You sure you want this?</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">Kosch...please.</span> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>With a relieved grin, Koschei kissed Theta deeply, deeper than they ever had before.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I love you.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">I love you too.</span> </em>
</p><p>After that, Koschei had promised to never humiliate Theta ever again in public (they both had enough of that from their fathers) however, that promise was broken time and time again. The most recent break being that of the whole Adelaide Gallery thing.</p><p>“So what ‘appened? It sounds like you were in love.” The Doctor leaned back in her chair and swirled the loose leaf at the bottom of her cup. How could she word this to a human? It was something that the two of them only understood. The traumas they shared were unique and the results of said trauma downright terrifying. Being rather measured, the Doctor continued.</p><p>“We changed and I…I ran. Left him behind and went…went travelling. I thought he had died on a ship and I never really made amends but I found out he was alive and it…it didn’t go so well and now he’s just following me around and I don’t like that, not anymore,” she let out a breath, trying to calm her heartbeats. The newly shattered bond had reawakened pains she thought she had grown out of but obviously, she hadn’t.</p><p>“Travelling? Tell me more,” Marie-Jeanne easily changed the topic and the Doctor was happy to oblige, her mind needing a break from Koschei.</p><p>The Doctor responded somewhat reverently to recount era-appropriate adventures (trying not to mention aliens) almost as if the storytelling would help heal her. Marie-Jeanne took notice of this and felt sympathetic towards the strange woman. Grief attracts grief and mourners (no matter who they had lost) always help each other out. It was the way of the world in which Marie-Jeanne grew up in.</p><p>“Forgive me, Joan, if I am too forward but I ‘ave a suggestion,” she interjected whatever story the Doctor was telling, placing her cake form gently onto her plate. “After my ‘usband died, I ‘ave a lot of wealth and I am wanting to go overseas, ‘owever I need a companion.”</p><p><em>Oh, Gods, this is weird,</em> thought the Doctor. Not once has she ever been asked to be the companion. The Doctor was the Doctor; always running about and dragging along companions. Hell, she even dragged Koschei along when the were-no, stop thinking about that <em>period</em>. It’s over. Never going back. At times, their relationships felt like it had never happened.</p><p>“Please, take time to think,” interjected the Frenchwoman but in reality, the Doctor didn’t need to think. She needed to get away from the Master and keep both Ada and Charles safe. Being undetectable made running away easier and perhaps, with a new adventure, she’d stop thinking about him.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Oiu?”</p><p>“Oiu.” The two women shared a smile, the Doctors a little more forced than usual, and with an air of glee, Lady Marie-Jeanne Thomas paid their bill.</p><p>“So, where do you live? You must tell your family about this!” The woman was so excited and the Doctor could only share part of her joy. She had no family, here at least anyways, and she did have friends but they always left (or she left them). In addition, she couldn’t return back to Charles’s place because more than likely, the Master and his gang were surveilling the building.</p><p>“I can’t go back to where I was living. He’ll find me.” With a solemn nod, the two women grabbed a cab back to where Marie-Jeanne lived.</p><p>It was a nice blend of rich and comfort that the Doctor had bitterly come accustomed to. She missed the chaotic mess of her TARDIS and their link. Her head felt too empty even though it hurt.</p><p>Living with Charles came with the price of helping him work out his difference engine alongside Ada (though the Doctor deliberately failed her attempts. Couldn’t have everything moving too quickly) and now she is to be a companion to a wealthy woman. An actual companion with everything paid for her. It was like she was in the shoes of all her friends.</p><p>It felt weird.</p>
<hr/><p>Marie-Jeanne was kind enough to send a message to Ada and Charles whilst the Doctor waited anxiously for her friends to arrive. They were to say goodbye right now and the Doctor kept saying it was to keep them safe (in reality, it was just so she wouldn’t feel guilty when she runs away again). The message had been sent hours ago and now the Doctor paced around the drawing-room, pulling back lace curtains now and then to check the street.</p><p>The Master wasn’t near. She couldn’t see him nor feel him.</p><p>It was abnormal to the highest degree not feeling any form of psychic connection. Usually, she’d feel the odd, unintentional brush of a more telepathically advance human against her shields but with whatever she had hooked up to her sonic, the Doctor felt nothing.</p><p>She felt more alone than she ever has done before. Her species always took their telepathy for granted. To them, it was like the humans happy crying; normal, unintentional, just exists. Even across the stars, the Doctor had always felt some sort of connection to people, whether they were telepathic or not but now she feels like she’s human, in a way. Psy null. Nothing. Nada. No pressure on her mind at all. The Doctor could take down her shields and be fine because it’s like she doesn’t exist to any telepathic creature. The anonymity, whilst isolating, felt also addictive.</p><p>There was a knock of three beats (the Doctor counted, out of habit) and the Doctor and Marie-Jeanne stood up from their seats. A maid ushered in a rather distressed looking Ada who immediately threw herself into the Doctors arms, hugging with such a ferocity the Time Lord thought she was about to be crushed. Ada quickly pulled away and cradled the Doctors face between her hands, checking her over.</p><p>“Oh, my dear Joan, we were so worried about you. Are you safe here? The Master is nowhere near you, yes? Has there-“</p><p>“Ada, please, let the woman breathe,” interjected Charles who pulled the brunette away from the Doctor before also pulling her into a hug. After a second, he let the Doctor go with a weary smile before his eyes widened. “Oh, my…your hair!”</p><p>“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” The Doctor didn’t sound too sure, slightly overwhelmed with the barrage of questions and the touching. She tentatively touched the brown braids, not knowing what to do with her hands.</p><p>“I shall leave you all alone, yes? My maid will bring in tea.” Marie-Jeanne stood up, not wanting to encroach open this rather delicate situation. Whilst Miss Smith was to be her companion and accompany her everywhere, privacy was still a lovely thing and so the Frenchwoman left the three people alone to talk and catch up. There were some things that were meant to stay privy between family.</p><p>When Marie-Jeanne left the room, the Doctor, also though a little calculated, launched into her tale of the past two days.</p><p>“-And I ended up in this alien refugee camp where this lovely being, an Anzanti, brilliant people though a little vain and when I mean a little I mean a lot. Anyway, they helped me with this,” the Doctor pointed to her hair. “They were really kind and lovely and wanted to help me get out but I couldn’t leave you guys without saying goodbye.” <em>Liar. You weren’t leaving because you wanted to see him again.</em> The Doctor tried to brush her conscience away. She just wanted to lie to herself a little while longer that she didn’t need him in her life.</p><p>“Alien refugee camp?”</p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>Charles and Ada seemed to have latched onto two different parts of the story but both were as equally as loud they voiced their surprise.</p><p>“I’m doing this so you lot are safe. He found me, stalked me.”</p><p>“And we can keep you safe, Joan. Please do not keep us out of your world.” Ada tried to reach for the Doctors hands but the Time Lord quickly snatched her hands away, bringing them to her chest.</p><p>“No, ya can’t. I’ve pissed him off too much and now he’s gonna be hunting me again and you two are the most obvious targets,” the Doctor was trying to explain calmly and logically but all she could do was panic. They weren’t listening to her. They never do.</p><p>“Then…then this is goodbye? This is the reason why you had us bring all of your belongings?” Questioned Charles who uncharacteristically sounded sad and solemn, like nothing was going right in the world.</p><p>“Yes, this is goodbye.”</p><p>“If I may interrupt, it does not ‘ave to be the end.” The Doctors latest companion (or his employer now?) stepped into the room with an air of serenity.</p><p>“How much did you hear, Miss-?,” Ada immediately went into the defensive even though their conversation was relatively vague (apart from the whole alien refuge in the middle of London). This was a stranger and Ada did not like having strangers involved in private affairs.</p><p>“Lady Marie-Jeanne Thompson, wife of the late Lord ‘enry Thompson.” She was unfazed in her reply.</p><p>“Not the wife of Lord Thompson of the Heart-ford Trading Company?” Charles seemed a little bewildered and the Doctor kept looking at the occupants of the room, trying to work out her next move.</p><p>“Oui. Now,” she sat down on a love seat, back straight as she gazed at Ada. “I ‘ave an estate in Yorkshire that you can send letters to so you do not ‘ave to say adieu.”</p><p>“Why would you help her?” Admittedly, the Doctor was touched by Ada’s protectiveness but it was getting a little tiring. Everybody took turns to talk over the Time Lord, talk about her as if she wasn’t there just because she a little more (ok maybe a lot) more eccentric than the typical human female but if she was a man none of this would happen!</p><p>“Because I am now her companion,” she interjected, her voice steady though her hearts heated faster. The words felt sticky in her mouth like she was squeezing molasses through a tube. She didn’t want to leave the two people she had started to consider as a found family but eventually, they would’ve left her. Ada would be married and die of cancer and Charles would die alone. She was eternal compared to them.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Joan, please tell me you have thought this through.” It was Charlie’s turn to be astonished at the Doctors behaviour. He saw the woman as a chaotic mess that always saw the logic in things. She was also somebody who could form deep emotional connections on the whim and so it was weird to have her so readily break off said connections.</p><p>“I have. It’s the only option.” The Doctor sat down on a chair that was between Ada and Charles, the heavy red fabric of her skirts creating a comforting weight in her knees. “I want to see you two thrive. I want to see you marry,” she turned to look at Ada before shifting her gaze to Charles. “And I want to see you thrive but-“</p><p>“But you will not be there to see,” concluded Ada with a resigned sigh.</p><p>“Yes.” Tears started to gather at the corners of the Doctors eyes as she let her head hang. Goodbyes always hurt.</p><p>The room fell into an awkward silence, nobody willing to break this final moment of peace. Silence always made the Doctor anxious, no matter the reason.</p><p>“Just…Just stay in touch, please.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong><br/>
July, 1838</strong>
</p><p>It was two years since she said goodbye. Seemed like everything revolved around the number two; time she’s been away; how many sets of DNA needed to produce; the final Time Lords playing chase; the perfect number of sugar in tea; how many years the Doctors presence had set back Ada and Charles timelines.</p><p>The Doctor was rather shocked in all honesty when she received a letter from Ada in Jeanne’s (she was told by the woman herself to call her Jeanne) countryside manor. They were invited to the wedding of Ada and the soon-to-be Earl of Lovelace (give or take a few years). It was a wedding that should’ve happened two bloody years ago by human standards. How could her presence influenced time so much? She did nothing but laze about and cry (and yearn for her fam and the Master but that’s an issue for another day). Surely her moodiness would have spurred Ada to find attention somewhere else, in the form of a husband preferably but, it is what it is, she couldn’t change time anymore. Hell, she shouldn’t even step anywhere near Ada and Charles just in case.</p><p>Yet, here she was, brushing her hair out in only her nightdress in order to get ready for the day. The wedding was to be a summer one in the early morning in order to beat the summer heat (the Doctor didn’t mind the heat at all) and she was awake long before anybody had even thought about getting ready.</p><p>Her hair was still at her waist, the natural growth rate of Time Lord's hair being around about an inch a year and after dealing with it for two years, the Doctor was confident in braiding and twisting and slicking it back to the preferred style (which usually was down completely but society did mandate conformity now and then) but she left it as it was, slightly wavey, for a few more hours or so. The world was still entrenched in darkness after all.</p><p>Sunrises soon became the Doctors favourite thing about the earth cycle. She watched the sunrise over countless seas and coastlines, ranging from the Americas to Australia. She had seen the call of gas set behind monuments and towers, water dazzling in shades of pinks and oranges. It reminded her of Gallifrey and how the red grass would turn into a spectrum of shades under the setting suns.</p><p>She’d always remember the feel of Koschei next to her in the fields as well. It was their thing. They’d sneak out after exams and track the stars across the sky, whispering sweet nothings to one another about how they’d travel around the galaxies, just Theta and Koschei against the universe.</p><p>*Gods, they were naive was back then* was the constant sentence running around the Doctors mind whenever she thought about her ex-lover, her best enemy or whatever the fuck their relationship is called. It was their childhood innocence that brought them here, tearing at each other’s throat before shagging like rabbits. Their younger selves really did a number on their future bodies. Nearly two-hundred years of joy and pleasure has led to thousands of misery and hurt.</p><p>She huffed out a bitter sigh. Fuck, she missed him dearly.</p><p>The sun would rise in a few hours and the Doctor would be daft to miss it. She had a feeling it would bring a rather interesting day.</p>
<hr/><p><em>Where is she?</em> was the constant thought on the Master's mind for the past two Earth years. He ached indefinitely for the Doctor. This body was an enigma in a way, her actions and thoughts borderline erratic. At first, he thought she was as predictable as ever, that was why he created O, the perfect companion (honey trap more like). However, as soon as the Master revealed his plan, the Doctor had become unpredictable.</p><p>He never thought she’d break a bond again.</p><p>It took several strong painkillers to ease the pain; their minds were used to a mate bond and so it made sense they’d connect so thoroughly once again even though they interacted psychically for five minutes.</p><p>It brought back memories and feelings the Master had tried to repress deep, deep down inside himself but the gentle caress of the Doctors mind, Theta’s mind, brought those feelings back. It reaffirmed the belief that Theta (and subsequently the Doctor) was his, regardless of the Doctor being the Timeless child.</p><p>So, the most logical option was to keep tabs on what was his. The tracking was, originally, low-key where the Doctor didn’t know she was being tracked and it worked for the first few years but, as usual, he had grown bored. The Master tried to do some more work with the Kasaavin in 2020 but that too grew tiring. Then, he made the tracking more obvious, see how she’d react and as usual, she surprised him.</p><p>The Doctor was quick as usual, easily slipping away from his grasp but going completely off-grid, that was unusual. It was also a challenge to the Master to hunt her down but a challenge that was far more difficult to complete. Then, he read of the wedding of Ada Byron in the newspaper.</p><p>It was mind-numbingly easy to get a list of invitees and scour through the names. None really stuck out to him bar one:<br/>
<em>Lady Thomson and her companion, Miss Smith</em>. The Doctor was never original in her cover names; always going for a variant of <em>John Smith</em>. Miss Smith was the only ‘common’ name on the list. Not even a companion in this period would have ‘Smith’ as a last name.</p><p>Through a little hypnosis and some murder, the Master was able to slot himself the wedding itself as a background figure so he would startle the Doctor into running off again. When he collected ‘his’ invite (it was off some nameless rich man) and slipped on a perception filter, the Master was immediately escorted to a room in a manor, the church where the ceremony would be officiated just a mile away. He only caught a glimpse of his neighbour, a short, brown-haired woman who kept to herself and made no effort to introduce herself to her neighbour. There were no names on the doors nor on a list so the Master couldn’t work out who she was.</p><p>After an hour of settling into his role, the Master was rather put out that he could not spot the telltale blonde hair of the Doctor at the welcoming reception. Ada and her fiancé greeted their guest, none the wiser that the good ol’ Lord Hopkins wasn’t at the reception but rather rotting somewhere in a forest. It was rather quaint and <em>human</em>. Meaningless niceties were passed around like Bellinis and nobody paid much attention to their surroundings. Even the Master started to slip in the mindless drone of conversation until two women entered; one a stranger and the other the Doctor, his neighbour.</p><p>She looked different. Beautiful even. Her hair had become brown (how?) and was styled in the trend of today (he imagined it’d feel silky soft rubbing through his fingers). The Doctor wore a dress of pale green and white lace that brought out her eyes, her enchanting nature radiating outwards though, to him, it felt dull and lifeless, no customary brush of her mind across the room. Nonetheless, the Master felt his hearts skip a beat when he looked over her, head held high though subservient to her peers, waist gently corseted that creates a gorgeous silhouette many women would be jealous of. He wanted to talk to her, entice and whisk her away from all this. Perhaps he could even keep her on his TARDIS (payback for the vault, he keeps telling himself though he actually wanted to keep her safe). Though she was classified as a spinster, she caught the gaze of several men, causing possessiveness to make its horrible home in the Masters's chest.</p><p>The Master had no chance to corner her, claim her as his own against the crowd of widowed and hungry men.</p><p>When he woke up the next day in the dark, the room was cold and there were no embers to stoke. Human summers where the equivalent to Gallifreyan winters (though in the mountainous regions near the citadel, it could easily get cold enough for snow) and so, to Time Lords, it felt apt to wear winter clothing amidst forty-degree weather but the servants had supplied limited blankets and sheets, assuming that the occupants of the room would be fine.</p><p>“Stupid humans. Always assuming,” the Master grumbled to himself. He tossed and turned, trying to wrap himself up in the sheets when he heard the click and creak and of a door. His room was situated on the ground floor, alongside several other guests, with two doors leading out to a patio. According to his biological clock, there was still a few hours until the humans would be getting up so why was this one heading out to the patio. The Master was intrigued.</p><p>He slipped on a pair of slippers and a dressing gown, securing it tightly around his waist when he too, ventured into the patio. He was astonished to what he saw.</p><p>The Doctor was a wild creature in the dusk; her hair was long and flowing in the northerly wind, her feet were bare and only a small shall covered her torso. She looked cold yet ethereal, head tossed up into the sky as she looked at the stars. This was probably the only time the Master could talk to her without all the usual angst.</p><p>“You look cold, my dear,” he interrupted her thought and she immediately gasped, pulling the shawl a little closer to cover her chest. She immediately bowed her head, hair falling over her eyes.</p><p>“Excuse me, sir. Am I interrupting?” There was no recognition in her eyes, no telltale spark of <em>I-know-who-you-are</em>. Usually, the Doctor would see though his perception filter instantaneously, always ruining his fun but instead, she was subservient towards him (or at least who she thought he was) with no hint of retaliation or that trademark fire.</p><p>“No, no, no, not at all.” He moved to stand closer to her though keeping a reasonable distance. “I heard the click of a door, you see so, I thought I would investigate.”</p><p>“Ah, so I woke you up. Please, forgive me,” her voice sounded embarrassed and meek which he guessed was genuine. Her hair still covered her face and the low light would’ve made it impossible for somebody to see her face but one joy of being a Time Lord was the ability to see more in the dark. A blush dusted her cheeks and nose that travelled down her neck and even lower to her chest. Gods, it was a struggle not to ‘ogle’ her. <em>Play the part, play the part, play the part</em>.</p><p>“No, you did not.” They fell into a rather uncomfortable silence, both staring up at the sky and when the Master tried to brush against her mind, he reeled back. There was nothing. It was like she was dead. Not even under a Chameleon Arch could make her so psy null.</p><p>
  <em>Fucking hell, what had she done to herself?</em>
</p><p>Shit, he needed to think. He had wanted her to be weak and subservient, to prove that no matter her origins, the Master was always superior to her; that’s why he got her kneeling before him to physically demonstrate the gap between them (though that also did, admittedly, rekindled some old kinks) but looking at her now, so alone and bleak and un-Doctor-like, it made his hearts ache. Their relationship was built on the chase, the thrill of the hunt however, this Doctor, this <em>stranger </em>didn’t give a hint of Gallifreyan life. What the fuck-</p><p>“Look!” In a twist of liveliness (twisty enough it gave the Master whiplash), the brunette grabbed his arm and pointed to the stars. Following her gaze, the Master gasped at where she pointed towards. “The Kasterborous Constellation.”</p><p><em>Home</em> was an unspoken word between them.</p><p>“Sorry, sir.” She quickly pulled her hand back, the smile slipping away to a blank slate. That gentle, little ember was distinguished once again and the Doctor slipped back into the role of a servant.</p><p>This wasn’t what he wanted. He missed her fire.</p><p>“No, please go on but first, please get a blanket.” The Master indulged her, trying to add more fuel to her ember. The Doctor looked puzzled.</p><p>“For you, sir?”</p><p>“I am not that old.” He rolled his eyes (she was technically older than him). “You look cold. Once you get warm, tell me more of the stars.” With a mood and a slight curtsy, the Doctor headed back into her room before returning with a blanket that dragged behind her. She looked so small and frail in this body. So tiny that the Master wanted to pick her up and keep her safe and-nope, not going there. Not yet.</p><p>“Right then.” With a toothy grin, she started to talk again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Marie-Jeanne is an OC alongside with the Heart-Ford trading company.</p><p>Thank you for the comments and Kudos, they keep me going and they mean so much!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Lonesome-Fret Affair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lonesome-Fret:</p><p>That feeling of restlessness or unease that comes from being on your own too long is lonesome-fret, an 18th/19th century dialect word defined as “ennui from lonesomeness” by the English Dialect Dictionary.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A couple of chairs had been brought outside, the two beings sitting side by side as the female talked. Her attitude in stargazing was the complete opposite to when the Master had met her (more like glanced) earlier. His perception filter was still on and the Doctor had yet to see through it. To her, he was just a kind but eccentric old lord who had let her be herself for the night.</p><p>Whilst he did miss her enthusiasm and rambling he also loved the look servitude had on her. Her eyes downcast, body language making it clear she was a low ranking member of society. Subservient. Submissive. He was torn; two parts of his being converging onto the Doctor. Saxon and Missy. A dangerous mix. Both were sexual in their nature; a constant thirst the Master had no desire to quench regardless of the internal war.</p><p>The part the most recent Master had deemed Saxon was the sexual dominant of his brain; the taker and the defiler. The segment of the Master's personality that would love to see little Miss Sub on her knees for him again, begging for him to touch her, fuck her and he’d enjoy ruining her for all other beings in the universe. He’d tie her to his bed, make sure her body was always teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain; her sex and moth aching from his cock yet she’d beg for more. This part of his psyche would love to tear her down, piece by piece, and show the god of Gallifrey who was in charge. Perhaps he would breed her for spite, over and over again until he had enough to create an army but he would continue to fuck a child into the female Doctor. Her body was always his.</p><p>On the other hand, the Master isolated Missy as the complete opposite: kind, caring, gentle. The softer side of the master would touch the Doctor in a way that would leave her keening, body worshipped in every way. The Doctor would beg for more but not because of a need for touch, rather the need for intimacy. She would call out his name like a prayer as he would spoil her rotten, caressing every dip and curve of her body in reverence and respect. They’d be sweet and gentle together just like they had been at the Academy though a little warier of post-sex promises. Yes, the soft side of his mind would look upon a coming Doctor with adoration and respect. Perhaps, they’d throw away the titles and become one once again.</p><p>The Master could not remember regeneration from Saxon to Missy or Missy to this one. He never really got to say goodbye to his past lives and so it’d make sense his mind would be more shattered than usual and take on individual traits. It was important to say farewell, a way to deal with the pain of regeneration and moving on with your cycle but he could never remember his parting words, the reason for the Master's recent rebirth a mystery.</p><p>The Master was knocked out of his reverie when the woman next to him became silent, the constant background chatter gone. He never liked it when Theta or the Doctor goes silent. It usually meant they were thinking about the bad shit they’ve done in their past, hard. He turned to look at the Doctor, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her gaze glassy and unfocused as if she was trapped in a memory. A twitch in the blanket drew the Masters gaze to her hands that played with her nails or the fabric of her nightdress sleeves</p><p>“You away with the fae, Miss Smith?” He tried to be calm but jokey, tried to gently break the Doctor out of her reverie. Her reaction was by no means a gentle one. She jumped, a gasp leaving her lips, eyes wide as if expecting a fight. Her hands immediately went to her chest, covering the hearts the Master knew where beating faster than light. He tried to calm her down, reaching out to touch her arm.</p><p>“No, don’t...don’t touch me,” whispered the Doctor, shying further away from the Master even more. He nodded and turned his head back to the stars as he tried and failed to not think about the Doctors reaction. In all of their adventures and fights and dates, the Doctor had never <em>ever </em>done <em>that </em>before. Even when they were having a bad day, the Doctor would always welcome the Masters grounding touch (that was if they were on speaking terms).</p><p>He must be tactical with what he has to say.</p><p>“It appears you have been through a war, Miss Smith.”</p><p>“Yeah…something like that.” The Doctors voice sounded dejected, hurt, tiny like the Oncoming Storm has finally died.</p><p>“Do you wish to talk about it?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“As you wish.”</p><p>The was a silence between them, heavy and stagnant as the night sky changed from a deep blue-black into indigo, the sun starting to rise.</p><p>“It’s just-“ her voice trailed off and the Master turned to look at her. “Everybody that I touch leaves me and they...they die majority of the time.”</p><p>Oh for the love of the gods, she’s in one of those self-pity moods. She ‘befriended’ humans! What do you expect the species with the lowest bloody intelligence of the universe to do other than die? The Master had no sympathy for the Doctor (ok, maybe a little bit but that’s just because he has...<em>feelings </em>for her).</p><p>“Everybody dies.” He poses it as an offhand comment, playing up to the act of an elderly lord way past his prime and ready for the cold hand of death. The Doctor scoffed and muttered something along the lines of ‘not me’. <em>How very true, my dear, </em>thought the Master as the Timeless Child floated to his mind. <em>It will crush you when you realise you can’t die. You’ll outlive everybody you know, even me.</em></p><p><em><br/>
</em>That sick part of him rose its ugly head at the thought of the Doctor being hurt by her own biology but he also ached, even mourned for her.</p><p>No matter what could happen in the future, she would live on eternally. Probably until the end of the universe.</p><p>The Time Lords were a form of immortal (in the context of a human lifespan) but death was inevitable and even welcomed. The Confession Dial existed for a reason but the Doctor would never be able to sue it for its original purpose. She wasn’t even technically a Time Lord!</p><p>But the Doctor was hurt and tired and scared.</p><p>She was also his Theta.</p>
<hr/><p>The Doctor was very confused as to what triggered that memory. She was fine one moment, chatting about the stars and the stories of promises she had broken a long time ago. To the white-haired man next to her, they would’ve seemed as tales of fancy, the raving mind of a woman who’s grown bored or hysterical but he did not say anything. In fact, he just nodded and hummed along. It was nice, lovely and she desperately had needed this respite but then she was thinking once more about the promises, how she’d take her companions to the stars. From the stars, her mind turned to planets and from planets to adventures and adventures to death. Their deaths.</p><p>Katarina, Sara, Adric, Kamelion, Astrid, River, Amy, Rory, Clara, Bill, Grace and so many more. Then there were the ones where she fucked up their lives greatly (Martha being one of the first to come to her mind). She loved and she lost.</p><p>It was her curse. Sometimes, the Doctor prayed to the universe to let her die, let her rest. She was tired of being able to love, letting people close to her and watching the die because of the Doctor, in the <em>name </em>of the Doctor.</p><p>Now, she was trapped on a planet where she is dependent on the people that are only a blip on the life of a Time Lord.</p><p><em>No more</em> had muttered the War Doctor (and Pinstripes and Chinny) in the context of saving Gallifrey but right now, it felt more apt rather to the deaths caused by her.</p><p>She wants to rid herself of the Doctor, wash the title down the drain and cleanse her body of bloodstains.</p><p>“Everybody dies,” responded the lord next to her when she voiced her feelings. It was stupid to feel resentment towards that statement. Yes, everybody dies but her! It’s not fair.</p><p>“Not me,” was her muttered response, bitter depression dripping from her tongue. Pulling the shawl tighter around her shoulders, the Time Lord shuddered and returned her focus back to the sky, watching it turn from indigo to violet, tinges of summer morning pink dotted in the gentle clouds that had started to gather in the night sky.</p><p>Pink sky in morning, shepherds warning.</p><p>“I fear for you.”</p><p>“I fear myself.”</p><p>They stared at the gentle rising of the sun; a warm glow heated the Doctors skin and she smiled, though a little sad. Another day, another challenge.</p><p>“I believe we have a wedding to get ready for.” And the old lord stood up, picking up the Doctors hand in hers. She looked up at the grey figure, his eyes holding mirth and kindness. In the typical fashion, he brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed her hand and gave a slight bow. “Miss Smith.”</p><p>She watched an aged back return to a dark room before focusing once more on the dawn of a new day.</p><p>“Right then, Joan Smith, better get ready and then help Jeanne,” she sighed to herself and stood up, returning to her own room. At the doorway, she paused and turned back to look at the chairs, a warm, fuzzy feeling gathering in her chest at the little interaction she had with the man.</p><p>The Doctor had felt happy then. True, unabashed happiness for the first time in a while.</p><p>She had felt alive for a second.</p>
<hr/><p>Marie-Jeanne was a lovely woman but she was a nightmare to get up in the morning.</p><p>“Mmmm, Joan?” Grumbled the monster under the sheets, head buried in pillows. The Doctor sighed and moved to the curtains, fully prepared to rip them open and flood the room with light.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“What iz the time?”</p><p>“Six in the morning, Jeanne. Time to get up!” The Doctor used her chipper everything-is-fine voice she used to use on the Fam as she opened the curtains and the window to let in some air. She heard a hiss and a string of French curse words under the bedding. “Breakfast is in a bit downstairs. Do you what help getting dressed?”</p><p>“Mm-“ the Frenchwoman grumbled and the Doctor saw the covers turn and crumple more around the tossing figure. “Non, leave me be.” The Doctor rolled her eyes before edging closer to the bed, hands turned into claws as she prepared to pull the sheets off. Once she was closer, she spotted a small foot dangling off the side of the bed. Jeanne was a right ‘mare the whole day if she didn’t eat breakfast so really, this was for her own good.</p><p>The Doctor tickles the sole of the foot and watched her friend squeal and Fam out of the bed, landing with a small bump that probably woke the neighbouring rooms if they weren’t already awake. The Time Lord looked down at the woman; her dark brown hair covered her face, nightdress scrunched around her knees and falling off her shoulder. Ryan probably would have made the remark she looked like some sort of creep out of a horror movie. <em>Oh, Ryan. I’m trying, Fam, I really am.</em></p><p>“Zat waz uncalled ‘or,” whined Jeanne, her accent always thicker in the morning. With a huff, she tossed her head back, blowing hair out of her face and glowering at the Doctor who stood with her hands on her hips, gaze unwavering. The Doctor rolled her eyes and moved to the wardrobe, selecting today’s ensemble of black, black and, of course, black.</p><p>“If ya don’t get up now and eat you’ll be late for the wedding. Jesus, when will you stop wearing black? Its been years, Jeanne. It’s so dull.”</p><p>“Ah loved ma ‘usband and.” There was a pause, she was probably setting herself down at the vanity. “Keeps the men away and then ze women can come an’ play.” When the Doctor turned to place the dress on the bed, she caught Jeanne’s gaze and the Frenchwoman winked. The Doctor rolled her eyes before heading out.</p><p>“I’ll be downstairs if ya need me, Jeanne.” With a wave of Jeanne’s hand, the Doctor was dismissed from her morning duties. It was odd, being essentially a servant but sometimes, it was a mindless task and with Jeanne usually taking the lead in public, the Doctor could relax though relaxation usually meant she focused on her feelings and thus the need to switch off emotions as a whole because damnit, they hurt and she’s tired of hurting. Maybe this is what all her friends and companions felt, mindlessly following somebody about with too much time to think and reflect.</p><p>“Ah, Miss Smith, good morning.”</p><p>“Oh, my stars!” She bumped into somebody and stumbled. The body grabbed her arm and righted the Time Lord before she fell. “Thank you. I wasn’t looking where I were going.”</p><p>“That was very much clear, Miss Smith.” The Doctor looked up and smiled at the old lord with whom she shared the sunrise with.</p><p>“Forgive me, Lord...” she trailed off, now realising she had no clue to who this man was.</p><p>“Hopkins, madam. Lord Henry Thomas Hopkins the Third,” he tipped his head in greeting and wrapped the Doctors arm around his. “Now, let me escort you to breakfast.”</p><p>It felt improper to walk down the hall towards the breakfast room, arm in arm with somebody way above her station.</p><p>When the fuck did she start to care about station and the <em>proper </em>rules of society?</p><p><em>Probably when you agreed to be a glorified baby sitter,</em> snarled her consciousness.</p><p>She really was in two minds about everything.</p><p>Breakfast was plain and simple, nobody at the table commentating on the fact she only ate one slice of toast (no butter just marmalade) and half a cup of tea with six teaspoons or so of honey. It was overly sugared and could have well have put a diabetic into a coma but the Doctor hardly eats during the day (exhaustion or biology, who knows) and she needed the sugar to get through the day. In hindsight, she probably should’ve eaten more in the morning.</p><p>The Doctor loved weddings, usually, but today seemed bitter, harsh, insignificant. The day did not reflect her mood; her pale blue skirts swishing in vibrant green grass and her skin was warmed under the sun. The cotton clouds in the sky floated in gentle swirls that deserved the attention of a diligent painter, perhaps Van Gogh and the Doctor would’ve taken joy in the beauty of the universe but she just couldn’t.</p><p>How many weddings will she go to and how many funerals will she attend?</p><p>A good, brisk walk towards the church was needed and the Doctor could stretch her legs out without judgement, several other attendees foregoing the option of a carriage, including a certain lord.</p><p>“It is about a half an hour march towards the church, Miss Smith. Do you care for conversation?”</p><p>“No, thank you.” She wasn’t in the mood. Probably couldn’t keep her tongue in check and respect the patriarchy and societal rules like a good little servant. If she was Angry Eyebrows, she would’ve yelled some rather Marxist points at several lord and ladies by now but she would’ve been a man, she could get away with it but as a woman, a slap or a beating was always imminent. At least Jeanne was nice.</p><p>Jeanne was livid when a lord got handsy with the Doctor when she went to retrieve a shall and turned pretty much nuclear later on when the Doctor admitted that due to her giving the lord a rather stern speech of consent, the Doctor ended up with bruises on her arms and cheekbones. The Frenchwoman has then made an effort to teach the Doctor about ways to survive in this world.</p><p>She was tired of surviving; tired of feeling like a ghost of somebody she once was. It was like being under the Chameleon Arch but worse. Under the Arch, she wouldn’t have even known the lure of the stars and the wonders hidden in nebulas.</p><p>“Where is your mistress?”</p><p>“Probably trying to shag one of the maids,” said the Doctor out loud, completely forgetting where she was for a second. Her snark was definitely gonna get her in trouble again. She clamped her hands over her mouth, forbidding herself to fuck this up even more and she turned to look at Lord Hopkins who just gave her conspiratorial smile, teeth showing.</p><p><em>He looks like an old Master, </em>whispered her hearts and the Doctor had to turn her head away, crushing those feelings down.</p><p>“Do not worry. Your mistresses secret is safe with me,” he chuckled and once again linked their arms. “I myself do enjoy some fun with men and women.”</p><p>They walked together in silence, edging closer to the church as the Doctor not looking at him and trying to find some joy in the scenery. She could not.</p><p>“What about you, Miss Smith? Any partners?”</p><p>“You’re a bit nosey.”</p><p>“I am bored. Looking for some entertainment.” Sounded like the Master too. Always bored, always causing chaos for fun. It made her hearts ache once more, yearning for her old friend to finally come and let her go or at least see her and talk to her.</p><p>
  <em>Was this how Missy felt in the Vaults? I can go out for walks and travel but she couldn’t…There was Christmas but I was there by choice. This is different, perhaps revenge?</em>
</p><p>“Well, you’re not going to get it from me.” Guilt made her snap at the Lord and quickly unlinked their arms, storming ahead towards the church and hoping to find Jeanne (preferably without her hands up some woman’s skirts like last time they got separated).</p><p>Maybe Lord Hopkins is the Master? An old or future regeneration? Could be another disguise. <em>Like O. </em>His mannerism were similar; the constant touching, grinning like a feral bastard, always catching her and getting her in trouble.</p><p>She missed him.</p><p>Thankfully, when the church was in sight, the Doctor was arriving just as a carriage pulled up behind her, the loud chatter of her friend filling the void.</p><p>“Ah! Joan!” The Doctor smiled at Jeanne before groaning at the person who got out of the carriage after the Frenchwoman; bloody Emily Johnson. Ryan and Yaz would’ve called Emily Jeanne’s ‘friend-with-benefits<em>’.</em> The benefits mainly being waking up the Doctor in the night via banging walls.</p><p>The Doctor was used to her glorious six-hour night cycle and made sure to get revenge through an ice-cold bath for Jeanne in the morning.</p><p>“Joan, how lovely to see you again.” Emily was a lovely girl (and by girl, she really was like half of Jeanne’s age but she couldn’t really talk when she felt a tinge of desire to Lord Hopkins just because he acted like the Master) and Emily treated the Doctor (Joan the companion) like an equal. Her and Ada would get along like a house on fire bar Ada’s more analytical interests contrasting with Emily’s ‘normal’ hobby’s.</p><p>“You too, Miss Johnson.” The Doctor curtseyed for show (she was a form of servant talking to a lady above her) as she had seen way too much of Emily to be more than a companion (see: that one time where Emily forgot Jeanne had a companion and-)</p><p>“It’s Mrs Edwards, now.” Emily interrupted the Doctors thoughts and held up a lace-gloved hand, gold band shining through. The Doctor felt something sit heavy in her stomach and realised she was jealous. She! The Doctor jealous of a tiny, mildly irritating human just because she was married?</p><p>Yep, sounded ‘bout right. She lost her wedding ring in her regeneration and had tried with all her might to find her last connection to River, the diary being lost to the library a long time ago.</p><p>With mild irritation, the Doctor followed Jeanne, Emily and Emily’s husband who accompanied the women in the carriage and now sharing glances with Jeanne. <em>Note to self: expect a ménage à trois in the near future.</em></p><p>The church was small but beautiful; room for maybe thirty members of a congregation and the happy couple with vases of carnations and roses and greenery dotted around the room but what caught the doctors eye was the ceiling.</p><p>In a sky of midnight blue, gilded heptagrams dotted around the ceiling, gold beams supporting the roof and contenting the stars. Amongst the larger shapes were little yellow spots and lines, the constellations labelled in Latin. As she sat down (Jeanne sat on her left, Lord Hopkins on her right), all the Doctor could focus on was the stars and the antics she’s done in this little quadrant of the universe.</p><p>Nostalgia seems to be haunting her now.</p><p>The laughter of lost companions echoed in her mind as Ada, the wife-to-be, started to walk down the aisle. Though the lace of Ada’s veil, the human and the Timelord caught each other's eyes and smiled at each other. The human radiated so much joy and excitement that it was hard to be gloomy at all.</p><p>As the two humans stood in front of the priest, waiting with held breathe as the priest called for anybody to come forward or forever speak their peace, the Doctor couldn’t help but feel cheated once more.</p><p>At her wedding, there was no way that Kosch could have intervened the ceremony, couldn’t overrule the law because Theta was already bonded to Koschei, the Doctor bonded to the Master. The two had tried and failed to appeal to the Lungbarrow family to stop Theta’s marriage (Koschei had refused as well as his intended and was thus a bachelor). Through bribery and guilt-tripping, Theta married his intended who never commented on their lack of a mate bond (thank the gods). She was decent and lovely but Theta could never love her like he loved Koschei.</p><p>River was something different. The Doctor believed that the Master was dead once and for all and therefore mourned him before moving on. The Doctor loved River with all his hearts then and the thirteenth Doctor still does.</p><p>Missy was a solid kick to the teeth and then the Saxon Master coming back into the picture just hurt even more but this new one, O, was devilishly handsome (insanity and all) and both of them were finally free from any constraints. They could work out their differences and find a way to be Theta and Koschei again. They could have the wedding they wanted and the Doctor would be happy by his side once more, running across the stars and visiting every galaxy just like they had promised each other when they were children.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck me. When did I become a Jane Austen character?</em>
</p><p>It took the harsh sound of the organs playing the chosen recessional song to knock the Doctor out of her thoughts. Guided (more like pushed to be honest) by Jeanne, she made her way outside where the happy couple were entering a carriage pulled by two white horses. People cheered as the carriage started to pull away and the Doctor joined in. Of course, there was to be a banquet at the house with the newlyweds before they embark on their honeymoon so they weren’t saying goodbye yet. She cheered and clapped, her face scronching up in joy and laughter alongside her fellow attendees.</p><p>“Joan! Joan! Over here!”</p><p>“Charles!” She called back and tried to look around for Charles Babbage but ended up cursing her height once more (she really shouldn’t have given that regeneration energy to Davros). Thankfully, the man had the foresight to seek her out first and immediately guided the Doctor out of the crowd towards another carriage, getting her away from the noise. Once they were away from the crowd, the Doctor couldn’t help but throw her arms around his neck. Gods, she missed him. Charles hugged her tightly back before pulling away, holding her upper arms as he looked her over.</p><p>“Oh, Joan. How have you been?” He asked, a smile of pure joy on his face.</p><p>“Lovely, ta. And you?”</p><p>“Stunning, thank you but I so missed you, dear sister.” He pulled her to his chest once more and the Doctor wanted to cry, a wave a pure need and want for a family threatening to take over her body. It’s been so long since she’s had a family and here Charles was, opening his heart once more for her to find a place. Humans, beautiful and pure beings. She sniffled into his vest and the man caught the sound. “Come now, dear one. Do not cry. Let me introduce you to my mother.” He nudged her into the carriage and the Doctor ascended, settling down into the plush seats opposite a frail-looking old lady.</p><p>“You must be Miss Joan Smith that my Charles took in. Let me get a good look at you, my dear,” crooned the old woman. The Doctor obliged, taking off her bonnet and shifting so that the light illuminated some more. “My, you are a beauty.”</p><p>“Mother, you’ll make Joan blush,” admonished Charles as he shut the side door and knocked on the carriage ceiling, the driver ordering the horses to ‘walk on’. The Doctor could only duck her head out of embarrassment, unsure of how to respond to this situation. Mrs Babbage tutted and reached out to the Doctors hands.</p><p>“Learn to take the compliments, my dear. You-,” when their hands touched, Mrs Babbage stiffened and drew in a breath.</p><p>“Mother?” Asked Charles tentatively.</p><p>“You are the thirteenth Doctor, though number fourteen.” Her voice was deep and distant, her grip on the Doctors hand unwavering and borderline painful. <em>Please, for the love of the gods, not another prophecy. Last one ended with me regenerating.</em> There was a pause and the Doctor realised she should probably respond.</p><p>“Yeah, I am.” It’s been a while since she’s had a mystery on her hands. She has fucking missed this. Her joy was short-lived. Mrs Babbage’s eyes become unfocused and glassy, losing herself to what she has to say, what the future holds.</p><p>“Tonight, she shall die and the Ghost shall rise.”</p><p>“Ok…who’s gonna die?” No answer. “Fine, alright, no answers. Anything else?”</p><p>“From the chalice, a child of two worlds will come. Blood will be spilt and the debt shall be paid. The child must come. The child must come. The child-“ Mrs Babbage kept repeating, her grip loosening on the Doctor until finally, she slumped backwards.</p><p>“Mother!” Cried Charles and the Doctor immediately checked her pulse.</p><p>“She’s fine though pulse is a little weak.”</p><p>“Good lord, what was that?”</p><p>“Prophecy I guess. Happens, you know? Humans are becoming more and more psychic as they evolve. Even now there are a few full-fledged psychics.” Her hearts were pumping at the prospect of an adventure. The stakes were high, somebody was going to die and she was all in. She turned to look at Charles who looked a little pale. “You ok?” He nodded slowly. “Has she done this before?”</p><p>“N-no.”</p><p>“Late bloomer then. Nothing to judge, just completely natural.” Without her sonic, the Doctor couldn’t do anything apart from check Mrs Babbage the normal, human way and even then it was limited.</p><p>“So...” his voice broke and he had to cough, looking very uncomfortable. “Who is to die tonight?”</p><p>“That is an excellent question? Fancy finding out?” She raised her eyebrow, feeling more and more like the Doctor with every passing second.</p><p>“O-of course.”</p><p>
  <em>Ok, Doctor. Time to get a shift on.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The luncheon/banquet was tense. The Doctor sitting away from Charles and his mother (who had made a startling full recovery) and was sandwiched between Emily and Jeanne who were shamelessly flirting. Again. Even Emily’s husband was joining in and the Doctor had to decline several offers of a bed warmer from the man.</p><p>“Non, non, she ‘as a man for ‘er.” Jeanne swallowed her gulp of wine. “Broke ‘is ‘eart but ‘e still chases ‘er down.”</p><p>“How romantic,” swooned Emily and the Doctor raised her eyebrow at Jeanne who shrugged. If only they knew he was chasing her down for sport rather than for romance (which she really, <em>really </em>wanted instead). “How long ago was this?”</p><p><em>Mmm, maybe about two-thousand years, give or take a century</em> was the correct answer.</p><p>“A few years.” Was her false response.</p><p>“Where you two…?” The Doctor ignored the question and focused on the soup, forcing it down her throat to seem human as the noise in the party grew too loud; every little clang of cutlery against ceramic and bark of laughter setting the Doctors nerves alight. She tried to focus on the flavour of the soup, then the coolness of the metal spoon but ultimately, she ended thinking back to Mrs Babbage’s prophecy. It was a puzzle she could focus on and lose herself into.</p><p>
  <em>Tonight she shall die and the Ghost shall rise.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>From the chalice, a child of two worlds will come.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Blood will be spilt and the debt shall be paid.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The child must come.</em>
</p><p>Not the most poetic prophecy she had heard but it was short, sweet and to the point. Somethings were easy to work out: ‘The Ghost’ is a title of some sort; ‘Chalice’ obviously some sort of birthing pod (her species used looms, others had a more natural way); ‘two worlds’ is a hybrid (those two-billion years in the Confession Dial brought to mind).</p><p>‘Blood will be spilt and the debt shall be paid. The child must come’ was the confusing part. Was the spilt blood because of the child or was the child able to pay ‘the debt’? And who was the woman or girl to die tonight?</p><p>“Joan? Joan?” Noise flooded the Doctors wars once again and she clinched at the sudden loudness.</p><p>“Mmm?” She looked up and was reminded of Yaz immediately. Jeanne looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed as she bit her lip in concentration.</p><p>“You were not with us, Joan. Are you alright?”</p><p>“Mm, just tired. If you’ll excuse me,” deflect the Doctor as she pushes her chair back and stood up. “I think I shall retire for the day. Crowds tire me out.” She made a move to head to the staircase but Jeanne grabbed her wrist.</p><p>“You ‘ave been tired a lot. Tell me what iz wrong.” The Doctor gave a sad shake of her head and the Frenchwoman gave a huff of disappointment and let go of the Doctors wrist.</p><p>It was awkward, skulking out of a wedding party but it was necessary. If the Doctor hadn’t gone out then and there, she probably would have ‘forgotten her place’ at some point. Besides, if she had to listen to the barely concealed innuendos between Jeanne and her lovers one more time, she would scream.</p><p>The Doctor was by no means a prude; this body definitely enjoyed the idea of sex but had never gotten around to it due to both society and time. She was also just irritated hearing about Jeanne’s sex life all the time, the past two years giving the Doctor an education she did not need. There were something’s that should remain private between consenting parties.</p><p>Her last two bodies where selective (River and River and maybe like that <em>one</em> person she couldn’t remember the name of) whilst Pin-Stripes was all for it (note: the ‘virgin’-not-quite-virgin Queen). Sure, Jeanne could easily arrange a meeting with the Doctor and some nameless person but there was something so intriguing about the first time in a female body; she wanted to explore her new limits but only with somebody she trusted. River’s time-stream had branched away from the Doctor’s for a long time now and there was only one other person. The same person whose scent now filled her room.</p><p>In a dazed fashion, the Doctor had managed to dig her key out of her bag and opened her door. She was immediately greeted by that pungent spice-ie smell of the Master, the source nowhere to be seen.</p><p>She should’ve been scared, right? He had found her, knew where she was, teasing her senses and trying to scare her but the Doctor wasn’t scared at all.</p><p>His scent was grounding and the Doctor could happily bathe in it. Shutting the door and locking it behind her with a <em>click</em>, she made quick work of undoing her skirts, corset and shoes and yanked every single pin and braid out of her hair until the brown locks were once again soft, flowing waves. She stood in her room now, comfortable and at ease only in her underwear (essentially a long, white dress that could also constitute for a nightdress) and realised that on her bed was a shirt and pair of boxers, the cause for the intoxicating fragrance. They were clean though, a giant hint of detergent underneath the sheer amount of cologne doused on them.</p><p>It was so him.</p><p>The Doctor practically tore off her frock, donning the purple briefs and slowing buttoning up the soft, white shirt in reverence. No other person used this type of shirt and underwear in this period. It was her treat.</p><p>She was about to dive into the sheets when the noon sun caught a piece of metal on the bedside table. Her cuff!</p><p>“How on earth did you get that then?” She muttered to herself as she plaid with the chain and star stud. It was in storage alongside her tux and boots and her braces and what made her <em>her.</em></p><p>Woah, woah, wait. Did he find her tech?</p><p>With a somewhat panicked jog to the wardrobe, she dragged out a heavy wooden chest. She sighed in relief. The sonic and the attached device were in working order but it was stupid checking it now, he knew where she was, what room she was in. Hell, he knew that she missed him. Furthermore, she’s probably gonna have to disassemble it just to get a reading on Mrs Babbage and whatever the hell was going to happen tonight.</p><p>But first, she wanted to nap and gather her thoughts, the wedding and all the memories dragged up taking a toll on her brain.</p><p>Heading back to the bed, closing the curtains on her way, the Doctor pounced on the sheets, nuzzling and nesting until the pillows and blankets were arranged just right and the Master shirt pulled right up to her nose.</p><p>The spices of Gallifrey eased the Doctors aching mind and she drifted off into a pleasant dream of two little boys in a red grass field.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for your kudos and comments! If you’re wondering when I get to the Wild West part, fear not for I am procrastinating my own writing. Don’t worry, this is legit just world building and character building so we get some hate/pity smut later on, yeah?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Agliophobia Issue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Agliophobia:</p>
<p>The fear of being hurt</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-/-/-</p>
<p>Things have severely gone off the rails for this chapter. It’s a long one with mild smut (if you can  all it that)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master had hated the Doctor for an age; angry at them for being better and then running away from Gallifrey. Later, anger and hatred had given away to adoration once again (Missy was the weakest of the all the Master’s). Then, for some fucking reason, he found himself on Gallifrey, in the Matrix chamber, learning of the Timeless Child.</p>
<p>Pretty sure he screamed when he saw who the Child grew up to in their most recent memory wipe.</p>
<p>He was also in the same file but under as ‘known associates of life number-‘ (he hadn’t bothered to read the number, he knew he’d end up crying at the number) and, once he was disconnected, cried hard as he read the dossier:</p>
<p>
  <em>Name: Koschei Oakdown</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Title: The Master</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Relation: unclear</em>
</p>
<p>Gods, even the Council had no idea what they were to each other. There was a lengthy note about the Master's life, including the experiments with the drums, but nothing alluded to the fact that the connection between the Doctor and the Master was forced, coincidental. The bond between the two of them was natural and unforeseen by the Council.</p>
<p>It was just them being them; chaotic destroyers of plans.</p>
<p>So, after destroying Gallifrey in a fit of rage and anger (revenge for all the lies), the Master endeavoured to find out the true meaning behind their relationship; what the foundation stone was, if he was important to her as she was to him. He created O to get close, to view the Doctor from a human perspective as the Doctor, for some fucking reason, was far more open with humans than any other species but as time grew on, the Master's anger slowly turned away from the Time Lords to the Timeless Child.</p>
<p>How could they not know? Did they never question why they were different from all the other children? Or was it just pure arrogance that fuelled the Timeless Child, that no matter how many times they were wiped, they always knew the Time Lords existed because of them?</p>
<p>The Master soon grew to hate his three-strand DNA, a strand that only came into existence through genetic<br/>experimentation on the Timeless Child.</p>
<p>The question was though: did he hate it because it came from the torture of his best enemy or because he will always have a part of the Doctor inside him? Maybe it’s just residual feelings from the constant clashes and words yelled at each other with venom? Did he just miss being <em>with </em>her, bonded and connected in mind, body and soul?</p>
<p>Koschei did with all his hearts. The Master was reluctant in case he was hurt once again.</p>
<p>But the Doctor was hurting just as much if not more. She hardly talked in the day, reacted harshly when he (Lord Hopkins for her) when he asked if she was involved with anyone. The Doctor was alone. She isolated herself once again. She was spiralling. Even when she smiled at the ape who was to be married, it looked forced, a facade to hide the fact that she was falling apart.</p>
<p>The Oncoming Storm finally turned into a porcelain doll.</p>
<p>As the last Time Lord, he felt it was his duty to keep on eye on the longest-running experiment. For the Master, he didn’t want their little games to end as it was his only entertainment even though he enjoyed seeing her hurt. As Koschei, the lover, it pained him to see her dying. Koschei would do anything just to see her nose scrunch up in laughter, hear her chuckles and constant chatter.</p>
<p>He decided on an olive branch though the branch was covered in thorns. <em>His</em> shirt and boxers doused in <em>his</em> aftershave were left in her bed just to remind the Doctor that she can never run from him but also to reassure her that he was there if she needed him. Her cuff was just to try and keep her together, an insignificant piece of glue sticking a billion pieces of shatter glass together.</p>
<p>The Master hoped it was enough for Theta.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He waited in his room, waiting for the telltale click of a door opening and closing. This could go either of two ways: the Doctor panics and gets angry or she accepts her fate and rests. Theta had always loved stealing his clothing and sleeping in them. ‘Makes the nights apart easier’ he had said even though their rooms at the Academy were directly across each other and the Master hoped the Doctor would appreciate him remembering the little quirks of Theta.</p>
<p><em>Click-click-click. </em>The final click was louder, heavier as she locked her door. There was no yell of horror or screams of anger but he did hear rummaging and clunking of something heavy, perhaps a wooden chest or something?</p>
<p>He waited five more minutes before exiting the room through the patio doors, making his way to the set next to his. The Master pushed gently on the door handle and was surprised that the doors were unlocked. The Doctor locked the one leading to the hall but not the ones to the outside. He struggled to get through the curtains but when he managed to get through, it was worth the hassle.</p>
<p>In the bed, laid the sleeping Doctor; the sheets doing nothing to hide the shape of her hips and legs, hair falling to cover her face as she turned over, facing the Master head on like she always did even in REM. She looked peaceful asleep, normal even as if she wasn’t one of the greatest creatures to exist. <em>How could she know? This was kept from everybody, </em>reminded the Master’s supposed ‘good side’.</p>
<p>A summer breeze gusted its way into the room and the Doctor shivered in her sleep, curling inwards as the Master’s shirt and the shitty human blankets did nothing to keep her warm. The Master decided to try and shut the door, attempting to keep the Doctor in her restful state for a little while longer. <em>So I can remember what she looks like when docile.</em></p>
<p>The curtains got in the way, again, and his quiet fury with said fabric ended up with him slamming the door. The Doctor gasped, her breathing increasing as she woke up.</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>“Hello, love.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The Doctor woke with a gasp as she heard a door slamming; one of her doors to be exact. Keeping in mind the thoughts regarding women in this time (as property to be enjoyed), she woke up quickly and wide-eyed, preparing to fight her way out of necessity.</p>
<p>It wasn’t a human though, it was the Master and she couldn’t decide if he was worse or better than what she expected.</p>
<p>“Hello, love,” he said a little sheepishly and the Doctor was confused. <em>Is he...is he embarrassed?</em> Never, never, ever, did the Master (or Koschei) portray his embarrassment. Usually, when they said ‘oh, I’m embarrassed’, there was a follow up to their thwarted plan, another trap for the Doctor (or another reason for a flirt).</p>
<p>“Master? I...what?” It was hard to express the range of emotions she felt in the little question: rage, longing, confusion, a touch of embarrassment on her side (she was in his clothes even though <em>he </em>provided them for <em>her</em>) but she mainly focused on the aching rage. Her limbs tensed for a fight as she sat up, prepared to have it at him. It’s been two years and now, now he shows up when there’s a mystery about to unfurl. This whole thing was suspicious...</p>
<p>Perhaps she should keep him in her sights? Have a long discussion? Argue? Fight? Seduction wasn’t her forte so that was well off the table and there was no way she’d try it with the Master (though, he did look handsome and rather sexy in that ridiculous, purple suit).</p>
<p>As she changed her position from lying down to kneeling on the bed, the bedcovers slipped from her waist and her legs were bare to him, only his boxers keeping her modesty. The shirt had slipped loose in her slumber, falling off her shoulder exposing both her collarbone and just a part of her cleavage and chest.</p>
<p>She saw the way his pupil dilated, breathing becoming more laboured and his pulse practically jumping out of his neck.</p>
<p>“I…uh,” the Master stammered, unsure of what to say as his eyes Roved up and down her form. He licked his lips and the Doctor rolled her eyes, partly in disgust, partly in amusement.</p>
<p>“Men. You’re all the same,” huffed the Doctor and made a move to get out of the bed. Her ankle caught on a sheet as she tried to stand up; she ended up twisting and was about to fall to the ground when a pair of strong arms caught her waist. The Master pulled her small frame against his chest and the Doctor’s body relaxed against her minds wish, enjoying the creature comfort of another Time Lords body against her own.</p>
<p>“Careful, sweetheart.” His voice ghosted over her ear and down to her neck, making her shiver at the closeness of their bodies. Fuck, he feels good. “Don’t want you getting hurt.”</p>
<p>The Doctor quickly regained control of her body, breaking the spell that the Master’s touch had created over her. She pushed away from him, flicking her hair out of her face as she held up a hand; it was a warning to stay the <em>fuck</em> away. She didn’t trust her judgement and self-restraint to not hurt him.</p>
<p>“If you didn’t want me hurt, it’s a shame you left me here.” Her voice was apathetic as if his presence was not a bother to her at all; her voice insinuated her was nothing but an irritating fly but it was far from the truth. The Doctor missed the presence of another ‘alien’ (and her old lover). She would do anything to be in his arms again, perhaps even in his bed, but her pride and anger got in the way.</p>
<p>Not bothering to look at him lest she ends up in his arms again, the Doctor made her way to the wardrobe and opens it up, grabbing a dressing gown. She pulled it on, tying it around her waist and was about to close the wardrobe when the Master held it open. She looked up at him and glared before following his line of sight. <em>Shit, the tech!</em></p>
<p>The Doctor made a lunge for the box but the Master was quicker, stronger even. He took the wooden chest form the bottom of the wardrobe and quickly opened it up on the floor. She would’ve fought him over it but he had seen it already. <em>Pick your battles.</em></p>
<p>She stood there, apprehensively shuffling from foot-to-foot, arms crossed over her stomach. The Master touched the sonic and everything attached to it; he pressed the button on the sonic, turning it off and all the Doctor could hear was a high pitch whistling.</p>
<p>The Time Lord whimpered and fell to her knees, head clasped in her heads. She’d been so long without her own mental shields she couldn’t build them. So much noise; too many people, too many thoughts.</p>
<p>“Make it stop. Make it stop,” she kept muttering over and over again. She pressed her head against the floor, trying to ground herself against the torrent of other beings in her mind. Yes, humans were psy null but that didn’t mean the Doctor couldn’t enter their minds. Without any restraint (something Time Tots were taught since birth), the Doctor was able to be in all of the minds in the manor house, she was even butting against the Master’s shield.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck, it hurts!</em>
</p>
<p>Blood starting to drop down her nose as she tried to get some sort of control but ultimately, relented to the flood of voices in her head. They floated around her, going in and out of focus and the Doctor was losing herself in them.</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>I wonder if mother will let me have another slice...</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>That maid keeps looking at me…I wonder if the servant quarters are unlocked at night...</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>God give me strength! If this man touches me one more time I swear...</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>That’s his fourth glass of wine today...</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>Doctor! Doctor!</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>There was one voice far clearer than all the others; it was as if it was closer to her. In her confusion, she didn’t know it was the Master in her mind, his fingers touching her temple as he cradled her body.</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>Theta…</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>The other voices started to clear out and all she could hear was <em>his </em>now.</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re ok. Open your eyes for me, Thete.</em>
</p>
<p>She did, slowly, and was greeted by a sight of a worried Master, eyes blown with concern. His fingers made his way form her temples and threaded them through her hair. He was still in her head, gently caressing her mind and trying to ease the headache that was starting to make its presence known.</p>
<p>“Had to make your shields for you.” He pulled her closer and grabbed something from his pocket; it was a handkerchief (dark purple, of course) and pinched her nose gently, tilting her head forward slightly. “What the fuck were you thinking?”</p>
<p>“I just wanted to get away from you…” Her voice was nasally and sounded hurt and confused. He was stalking her, making her genuinely scared and now he’s holding her, easing her pain. The Master looked hurt and the Doctor had to close her eyes, unable to look at him anymore. “Gods, I’m confused.”</p>
<p>“About what? You did something stupid and I’m here to pick you back up. As usual.” He was angry with her (or worried) as he let go of her nose and before she could protest, picked her up bridal style and deposited her on the bed, guiding her hand to continue pressure to her nose. The Master kicked off his shoes and took off his coat before sliding next to her, wrapping an arm around her. He pulled the handkerchief away and gave a satisfied huff as there was no more blood coming out.</p>
<p>“This isn’t the Academy, Master.” The Doctor tried to push away from him but instead, he pulled her closer, her face in his chest. She sighed and forced herself to relax, breathing in his scent and swinging a leg over his hip. She shifted and snuggled, trying to get comfortable.</p>
<p>“Sure bloody feels like it. You’re in my clothes. You’ve done something stupid. We’re in <em>your</em> bed cuddling,” accused the Master and the Doctor rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“And <em>you</em> placed your clothes in <em>my </em>room. <em>I</em> did the ‘stupid’ thing because <em>you </em>forced my hand and we’re only in my bed cuddling because <em>you </em>broke in,” she retorted, accent getting thicker, smiling a little at the banter. She looked up at him and was lost in his eyes. Yes, they changed colour and size and shape, but they were still Koschei’s. She gave a little weak smile and the Master smiled back. “I miss you.”</p>
<p>And she did; she missed being with him with all her hearts. She tried to enhance this feeling in her mind, make it clear to the other Time Lord what she felt. She sent her longing for his touch; her anger at being left alone; guilt at what she did to Missy; the hurt of not being bonded to him and the confusion of what their relationship was. It was admittedly too much to convey and she winced, sharp pain in her brains.</p>
<p>“Don’t try too hard. I feel you.” The Master presses his forehead against the Doctors, nose-to-nose and closed his eyes. The Doctor studied him before closing her eyes as well. His mind encased hers, keeping her safe from the outside world and the Doctor sought comfort in his mental touch. She wanted, no, <em>needed</em> more of him. Forget talking about what the past two years have been about; right now he was all hers.</p>
<p>“Can I kiss you?” She asked, her voice tentative as if she was walking on glass. <em>Please say yes, please say yes, please say-</em></p>
<p>The Master didn’t respond verbally; instead, he pressed his own lips to hers, a chaste kiss that ended just as quickly as it had started. He pulled away and they both stared at each other, both coming to an understanding. Using the grip she had on his hip, the Doctor pushed the Master onto his back and she straddled his waist. Giving him no time to think, she kissed him as she threaded her fingers through his hair, gripping and tugging as she deepened it. <em>This is what I want, what I need.</em></p>
<p>It felt too good and she lost any form of logical thought.</p>
<p>The Doctor nibbled on his bottom lip, asking for an entry that was soon given; their tongues battled for dominance as the Master quickly rose to the challenge she offered. He too, gripped the back of her neck, hand locking into her hair and pulling just hard enough that she gasped. He quickly won dominance in their kiss soon thereafter. The Master rolled the two of them over, the Doctor now on her back. She was running on hormones and endorphins, her brains not thinking much apart from ‘Gods, this feels good’ or ‘I’ve missed this’; her entire body was tuned into the Master and anticipating what he would do next.</p>
<p>She didn’t think he’d slip further into her mind.</p>
<p>“Kosch!” She called out, breaking the kiss as she felt him sink deeper and deeper into her very being, right down to her core. It was terrifying; he could destroy her in an instance as her shields and barriers were nonexistent but at the same time, it was pleasurable, feeling somebody wrap themselves around her so intimately.</p>
<p>He started to trail kisses down her chin and neck, sucking at her pulse point as he started to build a strong, indestructible bond between their minds. Her toes curled in pleasure as teeth scraped against her jugular and as the bond grew in strength and thickness, she could feel his own little sparks of pleasure. Shit, it feels like a mate bond.</p>
<p>“Master...Master...Koschei!” She tried to call his attention, get him to stop or at least stop but her cries of concern turned back into mewls of enjoyment as she felt something hard pressed against her core. On instinct, her legs fell opens fun her hips relaxed, allowing the male on top of her to press closer to her. She tipped her head back, eyes fluttering as the bond continued to shape and form. The Doctor could feel the Master everywhere; the rock of his hips against hers; the scratch of his beard against her clavicle; their minds thoroughly intertwined.</p>
<p>He shifted so that their foreheads were touching and the Master rested his weight onto hit forearms either side of the Doctors head, continuing to rock against her. A tight knot started to form in the pit of her stomach as she grew startling damp in between her legs and the Doctor was somewhat scared as to what this would mean to their relationship (or lack thereof).</p>
<p>They should stop before it gets too much. It would take some time but the semi-mate bond would dissolve eventually. She could get away from him if need be.</p>
<p>“I’m not-letting you-go,” the Master grunted, punctuating with a sharp thrust from his hips that made the Doctor see stars. <em>Right, yeah, he’s in my mind.</em> He chuckled in her mind, sending shockwaves across her entire being that made her shiver.</p>
<p>The pressure was getting borderline painful in her core but it was addictive nonetheless. She started to meet him in the middle, both panting as they chased their own climax, trying to get closer and closer to one another. The bond was edging closer to completion as the two Time Lords edged close to theirs.</p>
<p>The room was filled with groans and moans, the bed creaking with the force of every thrust. It was needy and hot, both Time Lords still clothed in garments that were dripping in sweet but neither could care. All they could think of was an impending orgasm and the completion of their bond. It was so similar to when they did it the first time round; accidentally bonding themselves to each other after their celebratory lovemaking for they had graduated from the Academy and were free. Though this time, the bond was made out of a possessive need; the Master wanted to never let her go and the Doctor actually welcoming his need (four years of isolation is not much in the grand scheme of things but it was enough to change her).</p>
<p>The bond snapped into place and the Doctor arched her back as she came, legs clamping around the Masters. He followed suit, groaning into her neck as his hips finally stilled and she continued to shake. The mate bond was complete and she could feel everything he felt just as much as he could feel her. The remnant after-shocks of the Master's release echoed inside of the Doctor and it seemed that the pleasure would never end.</p>
<p>“Fuck…” she whimpered as the Master gave a final, gentle rut against her before rolling off her. She was sensitive, overstimulated but in a good way that left every cell in her body humming in muted rapture. Her muscles were relaxing as that intense pleasure slowly ebbed away. The Doctor felt the most relaxed she had ever had in a long time, probably before she regenerated.</p>
<p>Their mate bond hummed in its newness and a startling reality crashed down upon her. Breathing became a little hard as she realised she was mated to her best enemy (again) and he had her cornered, trapped, unable to go anywhere. She had no defences, no way to get away from. What the fuck is he doing?</p>
<p>The Doctor rolled away from him, making a move to change out of her sticky clothing into something cooler. Her hips screamed in protest, her body not used to whatever the fuck just happened. She gave a soft whimper as she made her way to the closet, shucking off the dressing gown, muscles aching and her body quickly cooling down.</p>
<p>“Thete…”</p>
<p>“Don’t.” The Master pushes concern down the bond and the Doctor didn’t have the mental ability right now to shrug it off or even block him. “What are doing?”</p>
<p>“Currently admiring your fabulous-“</p>
<p>“Not that.” She spun around, glaring at him. “I meant with hurting my friends. Trapping me here. Mating me.”</p>
<p>The Oncoming Storm was indeed packaged in a tiny box but she hoped she could be just as terrifying like her last seven. The Master looked unimpressed before his face softened into concern.</p>
<p>“I missed you.”</p>
<p>“Sure you did, Master. Miss the games? Or the fact that I’m an easy target,” the Doctor snarled.</p>
<p>“No, not as the Master. Fuck the titles right now.” He stood up, stripping off his vest and rolling up his sleeves. There was a wet patch at the front of his trousers and the Doctor couldn’t help but lick her lips (that really shouldn’t be doing it for her but it was) as he approached. “Right now, this is a discussion for Theta and Koschei; not the Doctor and the Master.”</p>
<p>With a resigned nod of her head, she indicated for Koschei to continue.</p>
<p>“I...I was angry beforehand. You know how it is; I get angry and I do something-“</p>
<p>“What were you angry about?”</p>
<p>“I can’t tell you.” She huffed in annoyance. “It’s something I’ve to show you.”</p>
<p>“Well, then, let’s go.” Theta was intrigued as to what could have caused this whole ordeal and was heading to the patio doors when Koschei caught her, spinning her around so that she was pressed against his chest. <em>Why did he look terrified?</em></p>
<p>“No, not now. I don’t want <em>that</em> to ruin this.”</p>
<p>“Ok...expand upon ‘this’?” She gestured to the two of them. “What...I-“ Koschei pressed a finger against her lips, silencing the stream of confused stammering. He replaced his finger with his lips, kissing her gently.</p>
<p>“I was worried about you. Couldn’t find you anywhere and I didn’t stop searching,” he mumbled. Theta felt his loneliness and terror echo through her. “I’ve found you and I’m not letting you go. Ever.”</p>
<p>She pressed his forehead against his, rubbing their noses together as she caressed his temple in a Gallifreyan kiss.</p>
<p>“I know you’ve not been eating properly, sleeping too much, not actually talking to people. I know you, Theta, no matter the regeneration. Your spiralling.”</p>
<p>“Because you left me in a place designed to kill women through oppression.” She was getting snarky again, prepared to bite Koschei (yes, she would fight dirty against him. Venusian aikido be damned) who just circled Theta’s waist with his arm. She snuggled his neck and smelt him (their whole dynamic was rather primal but it wouldn’t be their relationship if they weren’t feral). She grumbled and Koschei chuckled.</p>
<p>“I wanted you safe.”</p>
<p>“You said you wanted me tame!”</p>
<p>“Tame enough so you were safe,” he muttered under his breath and she retaliated with a nip to his jawline.</p>
<p>“What about bonding with me again, hmm?”</p>
<p>“Do I have to explain that?” No, no he didn’t. She knew why; he missed being with her just as much as she missed being with him. They were at a weird point in their timelines where they were linear, running parallel to each other. It was the perfect time to rebuild from best enemy’s to mates.</p>
<p>“I just want to hear you say it.”</p>
<p>“I missed you.”</p>
<p>“Can’t year you, love,” she teased.</p>
<p>“I missed you.”</p>
<p>“One more time.” Koschei’s eye roll was practically audible. He leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he whispered. Theta pulled away and looked deep into his eyes.</p>
<p>“Don’t say those words unless you mean them, Kosch.” They said ‘I love you’ to each other too many times in the past to see it become a lie; a way to put salt into a wound.</p>
<p>“I do!” And the bond resonated it but she couldn’t be sure. Too much unspoken history between them was brought forward and it was getting a lot for Theta.</p>
<p>The Doctor pulled away, deciding to sit on the bed to gather her thoughts. Koschei followed her but she held up a hand, needing some space.</p>
<p>“You should go get changed. I know it’s uncomfortable after...” she nodded her head towards his trousers, trying to divert any further questions or revelations or ‘truths from the hearts’. He looked dejected but nodded, recognising her need for time and space.</p>
<p>“Alright.” He walked to the patio doors, collecting his items on the way out. As he was about to close the doors, panic wormed its way into her hearts.</p>
<p>“Come back,” she called out the command. Koschei turned around and smiled his beautiful smile (no mania, just reassurance).</p>
<p>“Always. I promise.” He left.</p>
<p>With a heavy sigh, the Doctor stood up, stripping the shirt and boxers off (hiding them in a drawer) before heading to a basin of water. Using a small towel, she washed, happy for once that the water was cold. It helped get her head straight.</p>
<p>Gods, what is going on with her life right now? It’s like Time is making her his plaything; bringing back an old flame that’s turned into something more once again. What else did the futu-</p>
<p>“Oh, the prophecy! How could I forget?” She turned around, looking for a clock or something to tell the time. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Getting distracted by him.” She kept muttering to herself as she spotted a clock. <em>It’s only four o’clock? Not, ‘tonight’ yet.</em></p>
<p>She had a few hours until something would happen. It was a small mercy; she could get her brains in gear and get her shields back up and functioning.</p>
<p>Pulling on a nightdress, she pulled the bed covers back up to the pillows and laid on the top sheet. She closed her eyes and dropped into her mindscape.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was her TARDIS console, all glowing crystals and /hers/ but the walls were wood panelling, not the usual hexagons. Upon inspection, the Master’s shields were strong but they hand integrated properly. Definitely needed to rebuild hers quickly.</p>
<p>“Right then, let’s get to work.” Her voice echoed throughout the console room and she struck with a sort of homesickness.</p>
<p>She missed the Fam and missed hearing the constant questions from the group of humans. They’d probably yell about how wrong this all was and honestly, this whole thing was a bit off.</p>
<p>Questions later, shields now.</p>
<p>With determination, the Doctor made her way to the console and breathed in deeply. The console represented her core being, what made her <em>her</em>. Without the outside walls/shields, it was vulnerable to attack from anything and everything. One outside force could destroy her entire memory.</p>
<p>There was a little scarring from the tech, it’s rudimentary design not compatible with Time Lore biology for longs period of time but back then, all she wanted to do was to get away and it was all she had. Some parts were a little sore to build and as she flipped switch’s and pressed buttons on the console, she gave a wince now and then.</p>
<p>Definitely don’t do that again.</p>
<p>With the main parts done (the wood panelling phasing in and out into hexagons) she just had the finicky parts of around a mate bond to deal with. That was at a deeper part of her mind.</p>
<p>It meant a trip out of the console room and into The Corridors.</p>
<p>The Corridors were alright, a visualisation of her neural pathways connecting key pieces of her psyche to each other but there was always something haunting the shadows. It was like there was something she wasn’t aware of, like a part of a past she never had coming back.</p>
<p>She always had that part of her since day one. It was her drums; haunted not by sounds but ghosts of something that has never happened to her. In the deepest, darkest parts of The Corridors, the walls shifted from the bubbled white hallways of Doctor number one to sleek grey concrete, purple mist seeping through cracks and darkened doorways.</p>
<p>One time, when she was very young and exploring her own mind, she went down this hallway and quickly made her way back to what originally was the barn she slept in regularly (now the Console Room). A child in yellow was there; a child she had never met.</p>
<p>Perhaps it was an early sign of her madness but she never told any of the elders. It was something private and scary and she did not want anybody to see it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Brave heart, Doctor.</em>
</p>
<p>She took a deep breath and made a run for it. She sprinted down her own halls, all blue crystals and glowing, orange hexagons on the floor. It reminded her of a crystal cave, all ancient yet sparkling new. So far, there was only one ghost in her halls; Grace. When the Doctor passed out that one time from not eating, she was greeted by Ghost Grace who said nothing but looks at her in blind confidence and trust.</p>
<p>The Doctor could never look at Grace in the eye.</p>
<p>As she ran down her hall, passing doors marked in circular Gallifreyan of dates and places (a spiderweb covering a recent addition), she heard the distant roar of Cyberweapons. She was so young and fresh in this body that the hallways between this mind and Eyebrow’s were very close. First, there was Grace and then there were the Cybermen of the Mondasian ship. The Doctor couldn’t deal with that right now, couldn’t compartmentalise correctly and store away the horrors correctly. She just wanted to get to where the bond was.</p>
<p>A flash of gold caught her eye and she spun around and saw an archway with swirling linear Gallifreyan dancing around the edges.</p>
<p><em>Well, you weren’t there before. </em>With curiosity, she read the Gallifreyan and smiled at what she saw, words turning into memories. All of their (the Doctor and the Master’s) key moments in their bond. Their first touch telepathically when they were young; their first night together; the first bond and their most recent bonding. <em>So this is home for the bond, then?</em></p>
<p>She walked under the arch, blue crystals slowing becoming infused with gold strands. When she touched a crystal absentmindedly, it created a hum and a tingle, gold flakes coming from it. The other crystals surrounding it also started to sing, a chorus of <em>safe </em>and <em>comfort </em>echoing in the cavern.</p>
<p>As she moved deeper and deeper, the more at ease she felt, like this was natural. The golden strand she had been following slowly got thicker and thicker till it had the girth of an ancient oak. When she touched it, she realised it wasn’t a solid piece of string but more a flow of something else. It was like it was made out of regeneration energy.</p>
<p>Definitely wasn’t like that the first time round.</p>
<p>Slowly, she made her way to what she assumed was the boundary between her mind and the Master’s, the glow becoming excruciatingly bright and then, it was just space. Literally.</p>
<p>She was in the grey zone where her mind and the Masters met and currently, the only shielding around it was just the Master’s as panelling could be seen through the haze of stars and nebulas. If she got her brain in gear and sorted this out, it wouldn’t just be her benefiting from this but also the Master.</p>
<p>If she built up her barriers here, she’s accepting the bond, telling him that yes, she wanted this.</p>
<p>The Doctor got to work and started to add her hexagonal pattern to the walls. Her shields, instead of phasing in and out, blended seamlessly with his; the shapes no longer the warm metal of her own shields but rather wood of the Masters. The perfect hybridisation of both of them.</p>
<p>“You can let go, Kosch. I’ve got it from here,” she whispered into the void and felt him remove himself from her mind. He sent a nudge of concern her way, asking wordlessly if she did have it handle. She brushed him off and smiled, tossing him a wave of playful annoyance.</p>
<hr/>
<p>She had retreated from the bond and was now back in the Console Room, several whiteboards already covered in black pen.</p>
<p>One had the prophecy written out, others expanding upon it whilst there was another, in the corner where she saw the Fam stand, backs facing her.</p>
<p>The Doctors sub-conscious had this habit of picking her current companions as it’s way to communicate. The companions were always the voice of reason (the majority of the time). Eyebrows had used this space as his ‘storeroom’, a place to lock himself in and show off as he thought his way through death.</p>
<p>Now, she needed this as a way to organise her thoughts.</p>
<p>She grabbed a whiteboard marker and started to work out separate parts of the prophecy. Nothing made sense. Who was the ‘she’? Why were they gonna die? How? With a groan, the Doctor spun on her heal and her gaze landed on the whiteboard in the corner; red, green and blue pen now marked it in different handwriting.</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>What made him angry enough to do this?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>Why bond now?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>Does this classify Stockholm Syndrome?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>The last question stung but it kinda made sense. He was her guard in this time, making sure, at first, that she was isolated from any other means of returning to the twenty-first century. It wasn’t exactly kidnaping though, was it? She wasn’t exactly a hostage either but he was her captor. Yet, it wasn’t like that. She was able to go around and she even managed to give him the slip. They were also equals now; he could hurt her just as much as she could hurt him.</p>
<p>“So no, Yaz, it’s not Stockholm.” She turned her back on the group and focused on the whiteboards in front of her. Nothing made sense.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Growing increasingly frustrated, she retreated from her mindscape, slowly feeling her body once more. Wiggle toes: done. Fingers all good? Check. Spine? She twisted a little bit, hearing a crack as gas bubbles pop. Need to see a chiropractor but ok. She opened her eyes and stretched the rest of her body like a cat.</p>
<p>“I was wondering when you’d join the real the world.” The Master slung an arm around her waist, cuddling her side as he gave a sleepy sigh.</p>
<p>“How long was I in there?”</p>
<p>“Maybe two or three hours.” Gods, time really did slow down in there. Probably should work on that.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you wake me? We’re bonded. You have access to my mind so ya could’ve woken me up an hour in.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t want to disturb you. You looked happy.” Ok so, the bond wasn’t to control her. It was just a connection of comfort. He gave a tired sigh and pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. “‘Sides, I was doing my own housekeeping.”</p>
<p>“Mm ‘kay,” was her mumbled response as sleep beckoned her. Doing any form of mental work was taxing and doing a hard reset (also known as a full sleep cycle) was a good idea. The Doctor felt safe in her bed, in the Master's arms and started to drift off as the Master's own exhaustion seeping through the bond.</p>
<p>Due to the type of connection they know shared, their bodies would adapt to one another such as sleep cycles syncing up or any form of cyclical based needs. They’d know each other intimately once more. They just couldn’t leave the other alone for a long period amount of time lest the bond becomes infected from a slack of attention. It was new, like a wound, and would need a range of ‘housekeeping’ to keep it in fine condition before it settles completely. That could take months. It’s good that the Doctor is stuck here, right?</p>
<p>Just before she lost consciousness, there were three short, sharp knocks on the door.</p>
<p>“Joan! Joan, it is Charles. It is mother. She has had another one of those fits.”</p>
<p>“Oh for fucks sake,” she cried out and extracted herself from the Master’s own. She had four years of nothing, yearning for me, and now, as soon as an adventure comes up, she wants to be left alone.</p>
<p>
  <em>What is going on with me?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for the kudos and comments. Stay safe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Rigor Samsa Problem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rigor Samsa</p><p>n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time.</p><p>Please, let me know if you think I should add tags or warnings. The next few chapters may have a few touchy subjects.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Barely thinking twice about unlocking the door, the Doctor twisted the key and was going to keep Charles outside of her room, concealing the Master, but instead, as soon as the door was unlocked, Charles barrelled in along with-</p><p>“Ada?” Ok, wasn’t she meant to be with her husband? Somebody else also came into the room. “Jeanne?!” The Frenchwoman looked furious and the Doctor immediately bowed her head in shame. Did she know about her not being ‘Joan Smith’?</p><p>“Look here, Joan. Is my mother going to survive this? She had another fit and-“</p><p>“Charles,” interrupted Ada but that didn’t stop the man.</p><p>“She had this strange vision of you and a man of Indian descent in America and-“</p><p>“Charles!” Ada’s voice was more urgent this time round, her gaze locked onto the Master.</p><p>“Nearly done, Ada dearest. Now, she said that you two would-“</p><p>“Oh for God’s sake, Charles! Be quiet!”</p><p>“What on Earth could be so-,” he trailed off as Ada gave a rather vicious point towards the Master. “Oh.”</p><p>Said Time Lord was still in her bed, his torso propped up by his forearms and his fringe falling over his eye in an ‘I-kinda-just-had-sex-way-and-it-was-amazing’ fashion. The Doctor had to admit, with a blush burning her cheeks and neck, he did look rather sexy in her bed.</p><p><em>‘And I’ll stay in your bed as long as you want,’ </em>he purred to her though there bond. It made her shiver in anticipation and the Master smirked slightly her way, a promise in his eye.</p><p>
  <em>’Trust you to think about sex with several other people in the room.’</em>
</p><p><em>‘You started it and oh, have we forgotten about the Adelaide Gallery already? Thought I caught a hint of exhibitionism from you.’</em> He sent her an image of her kneeling before him, four years ago. Her hair was short and blonde (man, she missed being blonde) and pulse was jumping out of her neck, a blush dusting her nose and her pupils dilated. She looked thoroughly excited whilst angry. The Doctor remembered the jolt of adrenaline she felt when he commanded her to kneel, her entire body was torn between submitting to him or fighting for the other people in the room.</p><p>She choked back a moan when the Master pushed his own feelings of arousal at the memories towards her; he was playing a very dangerous game, sending thoughts and feelings of <em>that </em>nature towards her in front of others. The humans wouldn’t have understood the sudden change in dynamic between the two best-enemies (now life-mates) and she was sure they (Ada and Charles) would blow a fuse if they knew what happened a few hours back.</p><p>The noise the Doctor made was noticed by Jeanne who stalked the Doctor into a corner as the two other humans stared in stunned silence at the Master. Honestly, the British really should’ve feared the French now because Rassilon, Jeanne looks ready to tear out the Doctors throat.</p><p>“A little bird told me that you are not who you say you are.” Jeanne poked a finger at her and the Doctor tilted her down in shame. Jeanne sagged and baked away. “Why did you not tell me?”</p><p>
  <em>Because I was hurting too much; I was in pain and lying to you was the only way I could run away.</em>
</p><p>“Because…because I didn’t want you to be in danger,” was her lie. <em>Rule number one: the Doctor always lies. </em>It felt heavy and bitter on her tongue as if the lie was made out metal. She could feel the Master glared at her through the bond (he was right; they were more similar than she thought) and she shook him off.</p><p>“And ze man you were running from.”</p><p>“That would be me,” interjected the Master and he gracefully made his way out of the bed towards the Doctor. He had a shit-eating grin on his face and pulled the Doctor to his chest, wrapping an arm around her waist to secure her to him. “Enchanté,” he purred whilst pressing a kiss to Jeanne’s hand in a greeting.</p><p>The Doctor rolled her eyes at Jeanne’s obvious attraction; the way her eyes roved up and down the Master’s form and the cat-like curl of her lips being the key symptoms. <em>Oh, if only she knew how good he was in bed. Pretty sure she’d kill me to get to him, </em>chuckled the Doctor yo herself, not realising the Master heard her thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>’You really do know how to stroke a mans ego, love.’</em>
</p><p>“Shush, you,” blurted out the Doctor and nudged him in jest. The humans in the room looked confused and it took for a second for the Doctors brains to catch up. “I said that aloud didn’t I?”</p><p>“You did.” She groaned and muttered ‘fuck’ into his chest. “Game’s up, darling dearest.”</p><p>The blush on the Doctor seemed to be permanent now, never leaving as she kept making a fool of herself. It didn’t help that the Master kept using pet names, insinuating that they were definitely more than enemies. <em>Ugh, this is going to be hard to explain.</em></p><p>Looking at the two other people behind Jeanne, the Doctor crossed her arms and pressed herself further into the Master in order to disappear. Charles and Ada looked at her in a mixture of disbelief and confusion, even a little bit of hurt at the sight of the two Time Lords practically cuddling.</p><p>“Do you care to explain yourself, Doctor?” Ada was terse and straight to the point; there was no way the Doctor could worm her way out or completely avoid the question. The Doctor squirmed.</p><p>“Yes, dearest <em>life-mate</em>, do you care to explain?” The Doctor winced. She hadn’t told Charles and Ada about the true nature of their relationship. Actually, she hadn’t told them anything that didn’t mean anything in regards to the Adelaide Gallery.</p><p>She really didn’t want to tell them this.</p><p><em>’I can do it for you, if you want to,’</em> offered the Master. She shouldn’t take him up on that; it wasn’t fair on the group but Rassilon, she was tired and really couldn’t take the questions that would inevitably follow. Yet, he was the Master and he never told the truth unless it suited him. This was one of those scenarios in which it didn’t.</p><p><em>‘No, this is my fault...I’ll do it.’ </em>She gave the psychic equivalent of a sigh as she finally, to the relief of the humans, extracted herself from him. She missed the warmth his body offered; it was like holding a cup of tea, comfort and security being offered up in the form of heat. He had always ran hotter than she did and back at the Academy, their nights together always ended up with Theta on top of Koschei.</p><p>“Are we to ‘ave any answers then?”</p><p>“Yes. Where do-“</p><p>“Not with him here,” blurted out Ada, her body betraying her anxiety about his presence. She stood there, in her wedding dress, arms folded protectively over her stomach as Charles stood there protectively behind her. Yes, Ada was one of the strongest women the Doctor knew (all of them were strong in their own unique ways) and she faced the Master before but he was the cause of years worth of trauma; unsure if the fainting spells were the work of God, the Devil or a medical condition. Having years without him and now suddenly thrust back into a discourse with the Time Lord would definitely drag up some feelings.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Doctor-“</p><p>“No.” Whatever the Master was about to say, she did not want to hear it. Right now, it was between her and the three humans. She needed a clear head to talk to them, express the way she felt and the reasons why (which would be hard enough if she was her ‘normal’ self; awkwardness was her downfall). “Please, just go.”</p><p>There was a tense moment as they stared at each other; the bond rattled with anxiety and anger from the Master but the Doctor stood strong against, her resolve unwavering. They may be bonded but there was no way in high hell he would control her; they were meant to be equals.</p><p>He conceded by looking away, sending her his resignation that made the Doctor wince at the strong emotion. She felt a little headache starting to form; they’d been using the bond too much too soon. Gods, she hoped it would settle soon or at least the Master could stop using it so much. The Master was about halfway out of the room when he turned around and glared down at Jeanne.</p><p>“Be careful of that one, love. Gossip never ends well.” And with that, he finally left the room, a heavy weight following him. The atmosphere eased up and the Doctor was able to breathe a little better; the constant threat of unprovoked violence from the Master gone. The Doctor loved the Master indefinitely but Gods, he was dramatic and always took one misinterpretation as an insult towards his character. For a heartsbeat, she stared at the door, seeing if he would return and drag her back to his TARDIS (yeah, if it involved getting back to the Fam, she wouldn’t mind but there was a mystery happening).</p><p>When she turned around, Jeanne was looking everywhere but the Doctor; a common sign of deceit amongst humans. Something was wrong and Jeanne knew what it was.</p><p>“What’s going on, Jeanne?” Tentatively asked the Doctor, unsure of what to do. Jeanne never lied to the Doctor and their relationship was based on honesty (ignoring the Doctor’s lie of identity, mind you) and maybe, the fact that Jeanne knew about who Joan Smith truly was might’ve altered their relationship.</p><p><em>I’ve lost another one, </em>was her melancholic thought.</p><p>Jeanne didn’t reply and the Doctor thought it was fair and reasonable. She owed her nothing but…there was something; something that made her life-mate cautious.</p><p>‘<em>Kosch, what did you (Gods, I can’t believe I’m asking you this), what did you see? In Jeanne’s minds?’</em></p><p>The response was immediate.</p><p><em>’Oh, lookie here. Invading your pet's privacy now, are we?’ </em>The Master was gleeful, borderline manic. He always loved it when the Doctor overruled her moral compass and made it a mission to put it out to her.</p><p>The Doctor rolled her eyes and Charles gave her a question glance.</p><p><em>‘Really couldn’t do with the usual lecture of my own hypocrisy, thank you,‘</em> she responded tersely.<em> ‘Just tell me.’</em></p><p>
  <em>’You know when I said gossip never ends well?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>’Yeah, your point is what?’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>’Well, your smarter pets decided to talk in a hallway and little Miss Gossip heard them.’</em>
</p><p>The Master sent her an image, plucked from Jeanne’s mind; Charles looked frantically talking to Ada who appeared to be on watch. The perspective was taken from a corner, the viewer only able to hear a smidge of the conversation. Words floated at the edge of the image, splintered but the context was clear; ‘alien’ ‘master’ ‘the doctor’ ‘game is up...Joan...tell Lady Thomas the truth’ ‘somebody...die’.</p><p>
  <em>‘And well, the nosey one got caught and soon enough, the whole truth just fell out of their mouths. Some ‘friends’ you have there, sweetheart, couldn’t even keep one simple lie.’</em>
</p><p><em>’It wasn’t a simple lie; I expected the truth to come out at some point.’</em> Admittedly, the Doctor was a little hurt at the fact that her two confidantes didn’t even bother to lie, easily rolling over and giving up but, it was something that was bound to happen at some point. It was inevitable and she had no control over it.</p><p>The Doctor watched as Charles and Ada spilled the whole of how Joan Smith was really the Doctor, a Time Lord from another time, another planet. Jeanne was defensive at first, arguing that the two mathematicians were lunatics but, after gently prodding and explanations, the Frenchwoman soon realised that they were right. It was probably the Doctor’s lack of social etiquette, language and knowledge of how to be a <em>lady</em>.</p><p>She squashed the feelings of betrayal down, making sure the master couldn’t even get a whiff of her disappointment.</p><p>
  <em>’Anything else? It’s not exactly gossip, is it though.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>’Well, she was so <strong>distraught </strong>with betray-‘</em>
</p><p><em>’Get to the fucking point, <strong>Master</strong>. I don’t have time for your drama.’</em> And she didn’t; the humans were looking at her weirdly.</p><p>The Time Lord felt a sliver of lust and desire from the bond. <em>Really should’ve realised he’d get off from his own bloody name,</em> thought the Doctor to herself.</p><p><em>‘She told her lovers and-‘ </em>The Doctor quickly shut him up, gently pushing the bond from the forefront of her mind and spun her head to look at Jeanne in disbelief.</p><p>“You told Emily?!” Her face scrunched up in exasperation, eyebrows pulling together and her mouth hung open.</p><p>“And her husband,” muttered Jeanne. The Frenchwoman fiddled with the hem of her sleeve and huffed. “You think you know someone.”</p><p>“Oh, I say! That is not fair,” exclaimed Charles, coming to a woman’s rescue as always. Jeanne didn’t take too kindly at that and immediately started a row with the man. At some point it went from English to French, both parties involved knowing the language. The Doctor winced and folded in on herself. Why does it always end up in a fight?</p><p>Humans. That’s why.</p><p>Insults were exchanged, the topic having changed from the Doctors lies to the general hatred between the English and the French; and the Doctor was starting to slip into her mind, trying to get away from the shouting voices. It was only when she tasted the copper taste of old pennies in her mouth did she realise that her lip was being gnawed upon by her teeth; her body trying to find a way to ground itself whilst her mind retreated.</p><p>Anxiety had always been her foe and she didn’t have the adrenaline from a fight to keep it back. In past bodies, anxiety made her quicker in a fight, prepared to defy death to save lives but for some reason, it made her want to collapse or run away and hide. If only her body would let her move. Panic started to seep her bones but they would not move.</p><p>Why couldn’t she move? She should be able to. Nothing was wrong with her. She was fine. Defiantly ok. No need to panic. Ok, maybe she is panicking a little bit. Hearts rate is a little high (maybe very high), breathing became a bit of an issue as her chest constricted and noise kept flooding in and out of focus. She couldn’t focus, she needed to focus on something, why couldn’t she-</p><p>Ada clasped her hands around the Doctor’s and guided the Doctor out of her chair, out of the room and into the quiet of the hallway. She handed off the Time Lord into a pair of strong arms and the Doctor felt something sooth her brain. It felt nice but it didn’t do anything much to quell the panic.</p><p><em>’Focus on me, Theta. It’s alright, you have me.’</em> No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t retain focus on the Master’s voice, eyes scrunching up as the sounds of yelling grew louder, Ada having joined in. <em>’Come on, love. What do you need?’</em></p><p>“Quiet,” Theta whined out, the noise inside her head getting too much. She kept thinking about how she’s lied over and over again; how Ada isn’t spending the time with her guests or new husband; how she’s fucked up so bad with Jeanne, there’s another person in the universe that hates her.</p><p>“I’m going to try something, alright?” The Doctor nodded her consent and gasped when she felt the bond flood open with ease. The Master’s mind was fully seated inside hers; the Doctor’s entire being was filled with his. If she was saner, she would’ve panicked as he could’ve easily have broken her mind but that wasn’t Koschei, or at least, this version of Koschei/the Master.</p><p>He pulled back the noise like a curtain, placing her ragged thoughts into a box for further examination later. Her limbs relaxed as her mind was forcibly cleared (it didn’t hurt as much as the panic did) and she slumped slightly against his chest. She was easily calmed, body and mind becoming slightly numb as he swayed her in his arms. The attack had passed and she came out on the other side reasonably alright.</p><p>Then, he showed her images, something easy to focus on.</p><p>“Do you remember Aurora?” There was a little girl in the Doctors mind now, eyes shining and lips curled into a mysterious smirk. <em>She looked just like her father when he was young.</em></p><p>“Yeah,” she mumbled, eyes screwed shut and her hands clenched in his shirt. It hurt a little bit, the bond being stretched a bit too much but seeing her smile again, sweet, beautiful Aurora, was worth it.</p><p>“I wished she was yours.” So did the Doctor; she wished all of her children had been his, too. She felt the love he felt for the little girl and the Doctors own children (they were legal guardians to each other’s children) and honed in on the love and security and <em>longing </em>he felt.</p><p>She missed having a family, a <em>permanent </em>family. Yes, her companions also filled that void but they weren’t flesh and blood relatives, they only lived for a mere second in the lifespan of a Time Lord. Humans lived fast, loved hard and hated so easily; it’s why the Doctor loves hanging out with them, the range of feelings one person could have in an instant becoming awe-inspiring. They showed her how to be young again but whenever she loses one, it’s she’s back to being an ancient traveller. At least with her own family, her own children, she would watch them grow up and she would never, <em>ever </em>have to watch them die.</p><p>“I want a family, Kosch,” she whispered in Gallifreyan, looking up at her mate with pleading eyes. “Pythia‘s Curse was lifted so long ago...” she trailed off, letting him fill in the gaps. He looked startled before smiling sweetly, hand cupping Theta’s cheek, stroking her cheekbone.</p><p>“I know, sweetheart but I don’t think either of us are ready for that. We were only bonded a few hours ago.”</p><p>“I’m not entirely too happy about that, either. Some consent would’ve been nice.” Theta gave the mental equivalent of stomping her foot and sending him a wave of irritation but gratitude he had done it anyway. It felt nice being whole again.</p><p>“Alright,” he chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” and he kissed her sweetly. It was just a brief touch of their lips, some extra reassurance but it still made Theta’s stomach do flip-flops and her hearts race (in enjoyment this time).</p><p>“Ah-hem,” coughed Ada and the Doctor pulled away, feeling a little giddy.</p><p>The smile she had quickly fell when she saw Jeanne standing beside the now-married woman. Pressing her self against her mate, who tightened his arms around her, the Doctor prepared herself for any questions and arguments that would quickly ensure.</p><p>“Before we continue, I must insist you get dressed, <em>Doctor</em>. You are by no means decent for an adventure in this manor.” The Time Lord felt a surge of exhilaration at finally being called by her title by Ada and her companions? Associates? Team?</p><p>Ada jerked her head in the direction of her room and the Doctor got the hint. Right, yeah, got an adventure to figure out. She made her way to the room, passing Jeanne who gave her the cold shoulder.</p><p>
  <em>Well then.</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p><br/>The Master watched her back retreat into her bedroom. He was worried for her, really worried in fact. The panic attack was reasonable and he had dealt with the Doctor’s attacks before and yes, he was concerned by the reaction to yelling. However, what was the scariest part was her sudden reaction to Aurora. Maybe it came from his comment of ‘I wish she was yours’ that triggered this sudden urge from his mate.</p><p>But Gods, Theta wanted to carry a child, his child, their child. Like, proper <em>carry</em> carry. Go through twelve human months of pain and awkwardness and not to mention childbirth. It was somewhat endearing to the Master that she’d give the title of a traveller for the title of a mother. <em>She probably hasn’t even realised that yet. Hell, she probably hasn’t even thought this whole thing out!</em></p><p>Pythia’s Curse was something that had ensured all Gallifreyan pregnancies ended in stillbirth and so Looms had to be created so yeah, technically she could become pregnant and carry out to full time with a healthy, normal baby but were they compatible. She was an entirely different species and even though he shared a lot of genetic markers with her, was it even possible?</p><p>The answer: probably not unless either of them went through extreme fertility treatment.</p><p>And there was another thing; everybody kept mention an ‘adventure’ or a ‘mystery’. He thought it’d be something bland like a missing jewel but when he asked (more like demanded with an added growl) the apes, the smart female told him of the prophecy.</p><p><em>Fucking great.</em> They never ended well as the truth always seemed to be more dangerous than what was originally perceived. Promise death and bloodshed would’ve made him happy but knowing his mate, it was going to end badly for her. Not to be superstitious but this seemed bad, really bad in fact that he considered staying ‘fuck it’ and dragging the Doctor back to her fam.</p><p>
  <em>Yet, the prophecy was already in motion.</em>
</p><p>“-and that’s not all of it,” added the male. “There was a vision of you and the Doctor in America and-“</p><p>“Don’t tell me any more,” growled out the Master. “If you tell me more then it’s going to happen. It may be a little hard for your singular brain to understand but time is in constant flux.”</p><p>“What he means is that the future can be rewritten but if you know the outcome, it usually happens,” added the Doctor as she closed the bedroom door, sonic in hand. She was beautiful though so plain; her dress was light grey and modest, hair pulled back just enough that he caught a glint of silver in her ear. He smiled at her when he recognised her star cuff. <em>She may not be in rainbows but she’ll always be the Doctor.</em></p><p>The Master saw a glimpse of long, red hair and Weeping Angels hiding in the shadows. There was a gravestone too that was accompanied by the extreme sense of grief and sorrow and pure <em>anger</em>.</p><p>“I learnt that the hard way,” the Doctor said sorrowfully. “So trust me when I say ‘it’s better you don’t tell us.’”</p><p>“But ‘ow can we trust you when you lie?” Snarled Jeanne and the Doctor looked away jaw clenching. Fuck, she can’t come up with a reply. She’s the Doctor, she never stops talking and yet, there she was, silent.</p><p>The Master decided to step in.</p><p>“Everybody lies. How is she any different?” The Master left his perch on the wall, getting real up and close with the primate. She gulped and tried to seem unintimidated but failed as he got even closer, her eyes widening as her body peppered to run. Gods, he loved how easy humans got scared. “Besides, I think you would rather trust and listen to the liar than the one who enjoys ripping people apart. Piece. By. Piece.” The last part was a threat and if the woman didn’t get her act together, well, let’s just say it was an age-long mystery of where she went.</p><p>Jeanne gave a slow nod, trying to look everywhere but him and the Master pulled back, smiling before clapping his hands in manic glee. Threatening would always brighten his mood.</p><p>“So, this prophecy. Love a good murder; could happen by my hand, who knows.” He gave a pointed glare and Jeanne and shifted nervously as the Doctor sighed in exasperation.</p><p>“All we have worked out is that a woman will die tonight. We just don’t know who,” responded Charles and Ada perked up.</p><p>“I have the guest list; I can tell you who are the women in this house and where their rooms are!”</p><p>“Ada, that’s brilliant but...it’s your wedding night.” The Doctor looked trouble and rested a hand on Ada’s upper arm. “You wouldn’t want to miss this.” She gave a slight side glance to the Master, a slight smile on her lips.</p><p>‘<em>You remember when we bonded?’ </em>She asked and sent him a little curl of nostalgia and a hint of a memory.</p><p><em>’How could I forget? You were so loud the walls shook,’</em> he teased. He would never, ever forget that night.</p><p>Graduation had been tough even though; Theta nearly failing his final exams. Nevertheless, it was a victory for the two of them and they had quickly absconded to the secluded farm barn. At first, it was just celebratory drinks and fucking but soon turned into more as they both sank deeper into one another until neither could distinguish their own headspace. They had bonded to their very cores and were then forever tied to one another.</p><p>They had fucked and fucked until morning where the old lady who owned the barn congratulated them on their bonding.</p><p><em>Shame</em>, mused the Master. <em>We never got the wedding we wanted.</em></p><p><em>’We can always go back to Gallifrey and get hitched proper like.’</em> He swiftly blocked the bond as he could feel how much the Doctor wanted to be married to him and the Master was flooded with guilt that he had burnt Gallifrey to the ground. Again.</p><p>The mention of his birthplace was enough to remind the Master that she was the Timeless Child, that he really needed to get his act together.</p><p>Bonding once more was an error of judgement. It was unprofessional; she needed to be kept under control and monitored (couldn’t have a literal god having a meltdown) but she also needed to hurt, to know how much it <em>burned </em>him to the know the truth and yet-</p><p>
  <em>Fuck it.</em>
</p><p>She was his. All his. Mind, body and soul. He could do whatever he pleased with her and as the last Time Lord, there was no higher power to govern him.</p><p>The Timeless Child would bow down to the Master and Theta would be underneath Koschei like always.</p><p>He could love her in peace, finally.</p><p>“Oi, you alright?” The Doctor rubbed his upper arm, bringing the Master back from his mind. She looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, lips pulled into a concerned smile. He nodded and pulled the woman into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.</p><p>“Yeah.” <em>I will be.</em></p><p>“Come on, we’re gonna go find Emily and her husband.” The Doctor hooked her arm around his, radiating nervous energy as she looked around the hallway. They hadn’t even moved. She chewed her lip and the Master studied her.</p><p>“How long was I in my head?” Probably long enough to cause concern. Gods, their previous talk had been about getting married and then he just shut the bond off. <em>Shit, she thinks she’s a problem.</em></p><p>“Not long,” she replied but didn’t look at him. “Everyone realised a few minutes in that you weren’t with us.”</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“What’s wrong, love?”</p><p>“Nothing!” She said quickly and tried to tug him to the stairs. “We should get a shift on.”</p><p>The Master saw through the lie and swiftly manoeuvred the Doctor so that she was pinned to the wall. He didn’t cage her in though, the only way she stayed where she was because on the tight grip he had on her waist (huh, she’s wearing a forest and everything, should have some fun with that later).</p><p>“It’s something, sweetheart. Don’t bother lying to me,” gently said the Master. The Doctor turned her head away but he cupped her cheek and guided her hand back round, the two of them locking eyes.</p><p>She sighed and shook her head.</p><p>“It’s stupid.”</p><p>“Tell me,” he ordered, making sure she knew he was going to get to the bottom of this. No matter what, he was going to be there for her now.</p><p>“It’s just…I mentioned getting married and you shut the bond down. Which is fine, by the way, we all need a little privacy but it just seemed like,” she paused, unsure of how to word it. “Seemed like you weren’t serious about us. Made me realise this was just a quick get back together, isn’t it? Getting your fix of the Doctor. Needed to bond with me so you know my whereabouts at all times?” She was starting to ramble, working herself up and soon, she’d explode. <em>Ironic. Couldn’t get her to talk and now she won’t shut up. Theta never changes.</em></p><p>“Theta,” the Master tried to get a word in, switching to Gallifreyan in the off chance she’d thrown off by the language change. She didn’t and instead, continued her rant in their mother tongue.</p><p>“Honestly, why did I even think you cared about me in that way again? So easy to manipulate bonds and people. You’ve always been good at that-“</p><p>“Theta, please.”</p><p>“And now you’re playing me along. Am I even going to see my friends again? Am I just some sick experiment now? You should be-mmmphf!”</p><p>He kissed her, shutting her up finally as he opened the bond. Carefully, the Master flooded her mind with all of his thoughts and feelings; bonding had been an accident, he couldn’t stop as soon as he started but he wanted more, <em>she</em> needed more. He showed the Doctor his commitment, his desire, his <em>love </em>for her.</p><p>Slipping his tongue into her mouth, tilting her head to the side, he pushed her further into the wall.</p><p><em>’Please, don’t call yourself an experiment. You’re not.’</em> <em>Anymore, at least, I promise you. ‘If it makes you happy, I can take you home now.’ </em>If losing her again meant she was happy, the Master would let her go over and over again.</p><p><em>’Please,’</em> she begged as she kissed him back. He tasted tears.</p><p>The Master pulled away and saw the little tracks of tears coming down the Doctor’s face. His hearts clenched as he watched his mate cry. Better he do this now before he changes his mind.</p><p>He practiced the speech he was about to say over and over again for centuries, never finding the courage to say the words.</p><p>Wiping the tears away with the pads of his hands, the Master tilted his mate’s head up a little higher. <em>We can always go back to a time before I destroyed Gallifrey. We have time machines for crying out loud.</em></p><p>“Theta,” he began. Fuck, he’s really gonna do this. “I have loved you since we were young and throughout the years, I have never, ever stopped loving you.” She sniffed as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The Master’s hearts started to beat faster and faster, his hands shaking from nervous energy.</p><p>“Why are you shaking?” Her voice was croaky and the Master chuckled, cupping her face in his hands.</p><p>“Because I’m asking you to marry me and I don’t know how, now that I think about it.” Practice speech be damned, now was not the time nor place for rehearsed words.</p><p>It took a few seconds for the Doctor to process the information before a bright smile, a genuine smile, brightened up her face. Puffy eyes and all.</p><p>“Koschei,” she said breathlessly. “You remember what they taught us?”</p><p>“Gods, do I have to?” Due to growing up as part of an elite family, both of them were taught how to properly propose to their arranged fiancé, the whole thing being more for show than anything else. A proper testament to how the Time Lords has given up all passions and instead did everything out of intellectual curiosity or tradition; the exploitation of the Doctor having become both.</p><p>“Please,” she begged with a smile. “It’ll…it’ll feel like it’s been us two from day one. Nobody else, just us.”</p><p>The little fantasy they had both indulged in: where they were arranged to each other, not some other elite Time Lord. Just Theta and Koschei from the beginning till the end of time. <em>That being more literal for you, Theta.</em></p><p>He stepped back, giving his mate some space as he clasped their hands, palm to palm.</p><p>“Theta Sigma Lungbarrow, will you allow me, Koschei Oakdown, to become your life-mate, in the eyes of the Founding Fathers and the High Council.” He swallowed as he mentioned the ones who had hurt this woman before him.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Will you join me in unifying our houses, for better or for worse?”</p><p>“Yes!” Her smile grew brighter with every questions and Koschei shared her joy.</p><p>“Until the end of days, will you be mine, as much as I am yours? Mind, body and soul?”</p><p>“Yes!” Gods, they were so close to fulfilling their childhood dream.</p><p>“Do you accept my proposal with honesty?” Her fingers interlocked his, clenching hard in the symbol of her acceptance. All she needed to do was to verbalise her ‘yes’ and then they’d ‘officially’ be engaged (though technically they were married via bond).</p><p>“I, Theta Sigma Lungbarow, do accept your offer of-“</p><p>A scream echoed through the hallway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for comments and kudos!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Proditomania State</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Proditomania</p><p>The irrational belief that everyone around you is a traitor; the unnerving feeling that you’re surrounded by people out to get you. </p><p>TW: non-consensual drug usage, murder, graphic depictions of death and violence, </p><p>This chapter is graphic, you may skip it without losing information. Rest assured, the next chapter will briefly go over these events in a far less graphic way. Please, proceed at your own caution.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Gods, that came from upstairs!” Exclaimed the Doctor, startled at the sudden change in environment. The Master growled as she ran towards the scream. At the smallest hint of danger, she was off and getting herself in trouble. They were so close to being whole again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so close to achieving the one thing he kept chasing and yet could never reach; Theta being his in every single way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything he did was for Theta, for their attention and their love and their hate. He just wanted Theta and yet, somehow, every plan to get his lover back was foiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did the universe hate him so much that it constantly fucked up his life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed the skirts of his mate, catching up to her quickly as they reached the stairwell. Music and laughter was heard from the ballroom down the hall; nobody could have heard the scream bar them. The humans would continue in blissful ignorance until the world burns to a crisp and even then they’ll leave in blissful laughter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pests</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shared a determined look (the Doctor being more heroic whilst the Master was infuriated) and climbed the stairs. He took the lead as he climbed in front of her with ease as she struggled to breathe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I bet she’s done her corset too tight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t-need you-to protect me,” she panted and struggled to catch her breath once they reached the top. Of course she’d think he was being chivalrous (alright, maybe he was being the gentleman).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now, love, you couldn’t do anything but wheeze at an attacker. How tight did you lace yourself up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The usual being for tea parties and not running?” As normal, Theta was an idiot and forgot to compensate for the off chance she’d need to run (and thus breathe), doing her corset up as tight as she would if she accompanied the humans for luncheons and book clubs. “Need me to loosen you up a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor nodded a little reluctantly and pulled him into the shadows. She turned around and pressed her front against the wall and the Master felt her embarrassment at being so ill prepared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dress she wore had a trail of buttons going down her back and he quickly undid them. Pushing the fabric off her shoulders slightly, the Master undid the bows that held up the petticoats and bustle. Soon, the knots that held the corset in shape were revealed and he undid them with practiced ease. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you, Missy, and your style.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement brought the Master’s attention back up to the Doctor’s face. She had turned her head to the side, her lip caught in her teeth as she watched him from the corner of her eye and pink dusted her cheek and nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” He asked and returned to loosen the boning and strings. She let out a sigh of relief and he watched in fascination as the material loosened further from her natural breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s way better,” she sighed but it wasn’t the corset that caused her flush. Her eyes closed and the Master’s eyes trailed up to where her neck was bare, no hair nor fabric to cover it up. He pressed a kiss against her flesh and she relaxed further into the wall. His hands were tying up the laces loosely and started to re-position the other pieces of fabric even as his lips trailed up and down her neck and his teeth grazed sensitive spots behind her ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dress itself remained open and he pulled it further off her neck. He was dressing her and undressing her at the same time; it was maddening and teasing in its own little paradox. He let her underthings go and tilted her head, giving him more access to the side of her neck. He dragged his teeth against her trapezius making her moan and shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>’</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do that again,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ she pleaded and the Master felt pleased and garnering her attention. All thoughts of the screaming monkeys were gone from her mind and all she felt and thought was him. Who was he to deny his mate?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He repeated his previous movement, kissing and nipping his way up and down. When he pulled away, the Doctor’s skin was irritated red and the urge to mark her properly was encompassed the Master’s psyche.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning to the same side, he picked the junction of her neck and began to suck a bruise. She whined when he reintroduced his teeth and hissed when those same teeth sunk into her. The Master soothed the bite with his tongue and pulled back again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bruise was already forming and he huffed in smug satisfaction at the sight of the Oncoming Storm shaking in need with her hands pressed against the wall. He shifted her dress and started to button it back up but not before he pressed another kiss to his mark. Fuck, she looked so good messed up and wanton.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the Doctor was fully buttoned back up, she turned around and rubbed her neck, wincing when she pressed a little too hard. Her eyes where hazy and it took a few shakes of her hair for the reason of running to come back to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>’</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s really good, like really </span>
  </em>
  <span>really </span>
  <em>
    <span>good,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he heard and he sent back his pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, shut up.” She strode past him but before she could get any further away from him, the Master grabbed her wrist and spun her around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t answer my question, by the way. Marry me?” He sounded like a petulant child and even though he already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear the words spill from her lips. With a sympathetic smile (she checked their surroundings first), the Doctor re-entwined their fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, Theta Sigma Lungbarrow, do accept your proposal of the unification of our minds, bodies and souls.” She pulled their hands to her mouth, pressing kisses to his knuckles. “Happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ecstatic.” Her face scrunched up in a smile before she let their hands fall and she turned neutral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But right now, we can’t celebrate. I want to but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right yeah, because we can’t let the apes sort their issues out by themselves.” The Master words were harsh but he did just get engaged and would rather celebrate it with his fiancé/life-mate (preferable in a locked room) than chase around some idiot with a knife or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor gave him a disapproving glare before pulling him down a hall. He felt her thoughts pressing against him, raging from smutty (her pressed against the wall, her body shaking from the force of his thrusts) to soft and actually, he had to admit, rather beautiful (family, children running around their Tardis).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck yeah, he was good at distracting her but it wasn’t enough to stop her from this stupid intervention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sobbing was heard from a door which light poured out from. It was a private room, a bedroom for a guest and as soon as the couple entered the room, they realised who the guest was: Emily.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeanne was standing by the bed, her hand stroking the blond hair of her lover absentmindedly as if the woman was asleep instead of dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor had experienced death herself though it was never really permanent and had seen it over and over again but she could never get over seeing somebody she knew lie cold and motionless. Death was both beautiful in its finality and yet, equally as horrifying In its chaos but this...knowing about the prophecy, this felt too surreal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor wanted this to be a dream, to wake up alone again in her room. No body’s to tend to but that meant there would be no Master, no Koschei in her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was the death of an innocent really worth the love of a supernova?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master moved behind her, looking around the room instead of at the other occupants (Charles was here but Ada and Emily’s husband were nowhere to be seen, Ada probably with her husband as it was their wedding night). Upon closer inspection, the Doctor has a quick look over Emily’s body, noting the bluish tinge. Pulling out her sonic, mindful of Jeanne, she scanned the body and read the analysis into the bond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>’</span>
  <em>
    <span>She died from an opiate overdose,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ muttered the Doctor, only trusting the Master with information at the moment. Omega knows how the others would react to this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>’</span>
  <em>
    <span>Interesting. Did you even smell it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Upon that question, the Doctor took a deep breath, trying to smell even the faintest hint of smoke. She shook her head; nothing, no smoke at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smoking opium was a major drug issue in the nineteenth-century with such a large amount of the nobility using it. Emily’s death would be a shock (for one, the girl was renowned for never partaking in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> indulgence) but not warranting any investigation as many overdosed each year. However, it was unusual that the woman had died from the drug yet there was no trace of it in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something was off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor made her way to Jeanne, clasping the woman by her shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deep breath, Doctor. Stay calm for Jeanne.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeanne, we need to examine Emily. Alright?” Jeanne made no indication of hearing her but the Doctor had to look. She needed to know if she had to hunt somebody down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just for this once, the Doctor wouldn’t mind going against her own rules. There were only a few people she would betray her own identity for; her friends making up the majority. Emily wasn’t her confidant but she was Jeanne’s and it wouldn’t be the first time the Doctor fought for a friends partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, Danny, Clara. You deserved better. You all did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved Jeanne away from the bed, passing her onto Charles and closing the bedroom door. No one could know of this, not yet anyways. How could they explain it to an outsider? This was a nightmare and Emily was just a young girl who got caught up in a spiderweb nobody knew about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next thing on the list was to check needles and so the Doctor looked at her arms first. The results were instantaneous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Koschei, come here,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ she commanded and he came to her side. She pointed out a small, dark spot, the size of a thin needle on the left upper arm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s nowhere near a big vein for old school methods and the incision is too sharp and precise.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p><em><span>‘You’re</span></em> <em><span>thinking hypo-spray, aren’t you?</span></em><span>’</span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ Death by hypo-spray meant that Emily didn’t overdose by accident; somebody with access to the future forced it upon the woman. This wasn’t the end of whatever bullshit was supposed to happen tonight but at least the first part was complete: </span>
  <em>
    <span>she shall die</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it wrong that the Doctor had wished it was somebody else? Perhaps one of those ladies who had no manners or individual thoughts? Was it bad that, for the briefest of seconds, the Doctor hoped it would be her to finally have the cold embrace of Death’s kiss? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor was left with three questions: who, why and when?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was getting really tired of not knowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor girl,” mourned the Doctor, pulling a blanket over the body up to the crown of her head. “Too young.” Even if the average life expectancy of a woman was around the early forties, Emily was only half way through that. She had her whole life ahead of her but somebody decided to end it too soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asshole. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They’ll pay, someday.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor knew justice would be served. By her hand or someone else’s, who knows?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping back from the bed, the Doctor retreated to Charles and Jeanne, her head hung low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry you had to see this. Any of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like how Grace died. All that guilt and self-loathing building its little mansion on her shoulders again. It was enough to crush her spirit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master was in her mind soon thereafter and soothed her. It felt like holding a warm cup of tea, reassurance in liquid form. He took some of the load, pocketing it in their shared headspace for balance. It felt nice to have him but the warm fuzzies were somewhat unwelcome but she just let him stay in her head for a little while longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Take care of yourself for once, Doctor,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not...not your fault,” sniffled Jeanne. There was a pregnant pause before the Frenchwoman launched herself at the Doctor. Everybody tensed, waiting for a fight but instead, Jeanne wrapped herself around the Doctor. Though shocked, she was quick to return it, rocking the human side to side in comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not over,” interrupted the Master and the Doctor chastised him through the bond. Gods, she watched the Master die several times and knew what Jeanne was feeling: loss, anger, loneliness, numbness. Now was not the time to tell them of a futuristic threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But...but the girl.” Charles pointed towards the bed. “I thought she…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it wasn’t accidental. It was murder. Plain and simple.” The brusqueness of the Master’s words brought a sharp sob out of Jeanne. The Doctor hushed the poor woman in her arms, trying to ease the pain as best as she could. The Doctor sent a glare at her mate who just brushed her off. It wasn’t his problem to deal with; he made it rather clear about what he would rather be doing (her). She gave no interest to his thoughts and hushed the young woman  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so, so sorry, Jeanne. I’m sorry.” She wasn’t apologising just for the death of Jeanne’s lover; she was sorry for lying, for breaking the trust the two of them had relied upon for the past few years. For somebody who relied on trust, the Doctor found it all too easy to break it, thinking about the overall image rather than the individual. That was something she should endeavour to change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening up to somebody had always been hard and after Missy and Clara and Bill…everything was too good to be true. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Play your card close to your chest and you’ll never get hurt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master was, and always will be, the exception but perhaps it was time to change that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who knows when your only confidant will leave you alone to fight your demons.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They hugged, neither one willing to let go of the other. The Doctor needed to talk it out with Jeanne, explain fully as to who and what she was but now was not that time. Learning that you lost somebody you loved was bad enough and discovering their body even worse. The Time Lord knew how this felt; she had witnessed so much life that it was inevitable that death would follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how you feel, okay? It’s a lot and I know it hurts. Gods, I know it,” she choked out and the two women slumped to the floor as the human curled up against the Time Lord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never felt older than she had at that moment, somebody so young in her arms crying out to grief. Compartmentalising was what Time Tots were taught to deal with situations and emotions but for the life of her, the Doctor couldn’t find any control in both herself and the situation. She was out of her league drastically with only the Master there as her rock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t going to be easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew Emily but not as intimately as Jeanne did but knew the woman well enough to know she was an innocent caught in the crossfire; the woman had money but not enough to warrant murder for it and she did nothing that could be considered devious or criminal. There was something else going to happen tonight, she could practically taste in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily Edwards-nee-Johnson was as pure as a human could be. It was always the good ones that were the first to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard a gasp and looked up; </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck! It’s her husband.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The man stumbled into the room, hand to his mouth in horror as his gaze landed on the covered body on the bed. He ran to the bed, hand shaking as he stroked the top of Emily’s head and pulled down the blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, God!” He cried out and fell to his knees, sobbing into his hands. “Oh, Emily! My love!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor watched the man weep, rocking Jeanne who had settled down before looking back up to her mate, unable to view the dramatic declarations of pain. She herself had mourned drastically but the sight of the weeping man made her uncomfortable. It was so watery and </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She shouldn’t judge but it was rather hard in this case. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, I see Eyebrows has had another influence on this body</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the Doctor thought to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I should find Ada or somebody in charge,” suggested Charles and made his way to the door but the Master blocked his path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t tell anybody. This needs to be isolated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A woman is dead, sir, in a house where she is a guest,” Charles argues back and the word ‘dead’ brought another sob from the husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a murder and the murderer is in this house. Not to be righteous or anything, but we need to find them and letting the household know </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> make them run,” he growled but Charles looked unfazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s right, Charles,” chimed in the Doctor, studying the two men from her place on the floor. “We need to find who’s done this and finish this bloody prophecy before there’s more blood spilt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat up straighter, chin up though tears stained her cheeks as she tried to assert herself in a position of power. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, Charles, don’t argue with me. Not now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> urged the Doctor in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man surrendered, head hanging down as he backed away and both Time Lords sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ The Doctor was grateful for the Master’s involvement. You could argue she was grateful for his change of heart (normally, he’d let the ‘pests’ to their own devices) and it was another indication she had gotten through to Missy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No need</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ he brushed her off, not admitting that he ignored the urge for chaos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeanne shifted, bringing the Doctor’s attention back to the woman in her arms. The Frenchwoman pulled back and the Doctor could feel how numb her legs were; it took a little faffing about until both of them were sitting reasonably comfortable. Jeanne’s hair had become frizzy and her eyes were puffy. The Doctor gave her a sad, small smile, reaching for her hand and linking their fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long time ago, the Doctor would have shied away from touch, hell, she’d never had even initiated but it was something that grounded her now. She saw touch as something that benefited all groups now, not just the touchy-feely humans. She squeezed her hand and Jeanne squeezed back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The husband coughed, trying to get air in and everybody looked back at him. His back was resting against the side of the bed, his forearms resting on his knees and his head hung low, shadows obscuring his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you...could you all please leave?” With an understanding nod, the Doctor motioned for everybody to evacuate the room. The Master extended a hand toward the Doctor, pulling her up when she grabbed it. Warmth in her chest heated up the coldness of death's presence, his steady grip bringing some relief to grief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she stood straight, the Doctor also helped Jeanne up and was about to guide the woman out of the room when Emily’s husband called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not you Jeanne, please don’t leave me.” His voice was monotonous, no hint of any emotion. Jeanne took pity upon him and the Time Lord quickly letting the human go to comfort her fellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course, Andrew. Of course,” she said sympathetically and moved to take a seat beside the man. She looked up at the Doctor, no hint of anger or hatred from earlier. Instead, Jeanne looked up in understanding and gratitude. She nodded, her look saying ‘It’s alright, I am safe’ and the Doctor agreed. She was safe. Andrew was next to her and there was no way he could be the murderer; his grief was so strong, his pheromones making her nose twitch and itch. You couldn’t fake that unless you had some sort of gel but that wouldn’t exist for thousands years.</span>
</p><p><span>Placing a hand on his shoulder, the Doctor nudged the Master into the hallway and Charles shut the door behind them. She leaned against her mate, breathing in his scent and taking comfort knowing that </span><em><span>he</span></em> <em><span>was alive</span></em><span>. She nuzzled briefly against his neck and heard the strong </span><em><span>dum-dum-dum-dum</span></em><span> of their people. The Master was safe and alive and for once, the Doctor wasn’t the one crying over her spouse's body. After The Year That Never Was, the Doctor knew she couldn’t bear to have the Master die in her arms again. She would follow him soon thereafter if she had to. </span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I really that kind of woman now? Sounds like bloody Romeo and Juliette. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“My room is down the hall,” suggested Charles and the Master actually nodded in agreement, guiding the Doctor with a hand to the small of her back towards Charles’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a modest and tidy room with the minimal clues that there was an occupant. There were hair brushes and ointments by the vanity and there was a pair of shoes in front of the wardrobe. Apart from that, there was nothing. The Doctor smelt nothing too; no hint of early decomposition or the pheromones of sorrow. Felt too clean after what they just witnessed. A match was lit and a candle started to burn, the room now bathed in a warm light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat down on the bed, there were no other chairs that weren’t in the shadows, the Master leaning against the wall and Charles was opening up a window, breathing in the fresh air. There was a gust of wind, curtains billowing in the breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor shivered but not just from the cold. There was something else in the air, like static. Gods, how dramatic; a summer thunderstorm on the night of a murder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we due for a storm?” She asks, her head turning towards Charles who gazed out of the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no clouds in the sky nor lighting. Just stars,” he replied, his voice both wistful and sad. The Doctor perked up and the Master looked at her warily, back straightening as he watched her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor, what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she trailed off as she stood up and walked over to the window, standing next to Charles as she studied the landscape and sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind picked up again, blowing in the room and bringing in more static with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you feel that?” She twirled around to look at the Master who now looked around in intrigue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he replied and soon joined her at the window, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. All three of them focused on the outside world though Charles and the Master were merely looking in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trees outside rustled and the Doctor closed her eyes. She focused on smell and taste (one could tell a lot about a place from those two senses) and breathed in deeply at the next gust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell and taste were indescribable but were oh so very familiar to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next gust she focused on hearing and if she concentrated hard enough, she could hear a faint hum or a tinkle amongst the trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your TARDIS isn’t leaking, is it?” She whispered, eyes still closed as she checked and rechecked her findings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, because I actually do my repairs, unlike someone. Why?” The Doctor ignored the dig at her maintenance skills before focusing onto the rustling of the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like she was tuning into her surroundings, like she was a radio finding BBC Radio One, blocking out every single sentient being and man-made object. It was just her and nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The humming had increased and she found herself singing alongside it; every cell reverberating in the song of the Vortex. She could feel the call of time in her bones, the Artron Energy stored inside of her reacting to the faintest hints of time travel in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was old travel, something ancient compared to her existence; perhaps an old TARDIS, before her beloved Mark 40.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, a TARDIS even that old would never leak. So, this was something else, something a little more-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheap and nasty,” she whispered. A vortex manipulator, probably one of the firsts, was broken and its connection to the Vortex was open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she didn’t close it soon, the Vortex would continue to leak, a few droplets of concentrated time and space could turn into a full-on tidal wave in a matter of years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed to find it. Soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that thought in mind, the Doctor could feel the energy make a path for her like she was part of it. It felt natural as if the Vortex saw her as an equal which was weird, considering it was just a big old blob of time and space, nothing sentient about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home. It felt like home.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Open your eyes,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ she heard someone whisper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Come back</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ she called back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Not yet. ‘M not ready.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She could float in this feeling for eternity; just her and the energy of her people. It was the closest she had been to the Vortex for a while and she was greedy in her desire for more. She pulled it towards her, wrapping herself around in the energy and her own soon was called up, greeting its twin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her physical form, she was glowing as her Artron Energy was activated and brought up to the surface of her body. Charles had to move away lest he got burnt from the heat of regeneration energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two men called her name in their native languages, Gallifreyan and English respectively, but nothing stirred her. The Doctor continued to glow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a slap echoed her ears and she was confused until pain started to blossom across her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a gasp, the Doctor returned to the world of men and cradled her cheek, tears in the corner of her eyes. Gods, should she be angry or hurt? Hangry? Aurt? Either way, she was embraced by the Master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods, you scared me.” He pressed a kiss to her hair before pressing his forehead against hers, noses rubbing against one another’s. “What were you doing in that head of yours? I couldn’t feel you through the bond.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you slap me?” The Doctor was confused, the ebbing pain of her cheek not helping. Emily was murdered for no reason; there was a time traveller amongst them; this mysterious prophecy tying them together and then, she’d ‘connected’ somehow to the bloody Vortex. Nothing made sense anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master nodded and the Doctor rubbed her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t responding to anything, dear,” he mumbled and looked down in both shame and concern. “What was happening?” He asked again more firmly and honestly, she wasn’t sure what happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know...” she trailed off. Why did her body not hurt? Every time she had to regenerate it hurt like a bitch. Maybe it was because it wasn’t a regeneration? Just natural energy? However, there was one thing she knew for sure and that was the manipulator. “But I do know that there’s a time traveller here, somebody using a broken manipulator. It’s leaking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes glazed over again as the background humming increased.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Come</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ it whispered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Come</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to find it, soon,” she whispered and shook herself, focusing on the Time Lord in front of her instead. He was solid and real, their connection more tangible than whatever happened between her biology and the Vortex. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Focus on Kosch. Stay with Kosch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not allowing for further questions, she strode away from the two men balancing herself with a hand to the wall as the humming increased. It was maddening in its repetitiveness as if it was her own drums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really couldn’t deal with this right now. Her own insanity was something she’s been suppressing for a long time now and the explosion of over two thousand years worth of trauma wasn’t going to be pretty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, the Doctor pushed the hum out of her head and pulled on the bond for mental strength. The Master, though concerned, readily steadied her mind and shadowed her footsteps as the group made their way out into the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The candle glow from Emily’s room was spilling from under the door when the Doctor gazed back to the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Poor girl.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt settled in the Doctor’s stomach and made its home in her core. Seemed that something was circling around the Doctor, getting closer and closer with every prophecy and every death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had practically adopted the Doctor as a sibling; his mother’s dormant psychic abilities had suddenly flourished upon the Doctor being introduced to her. Emily was a small little blip on the Doctor’s radar; important yet overall, insignificant. She was close to Jeanne who was close to the Doctor and on the way down the back stairs (somehow, the hum still wormed its way into her primary brain, guiding the Time Lord) the Doctor realised that whoever this time traveller was, they were picking off people, getting the Doctor’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed like something the Master would do yet had none of his dramatic flairs. It wasn’t him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m hurt you think it’s me, dearest. Hypospray isn’t my first choice of weapon,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ moaned the Master, a hint of teasing in his voice. It was meant to be light and spirited, something to distract her from all those nagging questions of ‘who?’ ‘what?’ ‘why?’. Sometimes she loved mysteries, other days, she hated them with a burning passion. The body count was already too high for her liking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The summer night was warm for Charles yet cold for the Time Lords. The Master had his purple coat on and the Doctor knew he had a thermal lining added to it (whenever either of them had a wardrobe change, thermals were always added) and she envied his modern clothing. Her dress was thin, only her petticoats and chemise keeping her warm but it still wasn’t enough to keep off the chill. She shivered when a gust of wind hit her back and she rubbed her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A weight settled on her shoulders and she automatically grabbed onto the lapels of the coat. She looked up at her mate and gave a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Thank you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ She pushed gratitude towards him and he sent affection back. It was a comfortable weight and made her feel safe, regardless of the prickle at the back of her neck screaming ‘something’s wrong, we’re missing something’.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, what we’re missing is this bloody vortex manipulator,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought to herself. She pulled out her sonic screwdriver from an inner skirt pocket and scanned the area, the sonic beeping when the scan was complete. She looked at it and felt the information flow into her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A steady stream of Artron energy was coming from the east of their position, the same direction of where the wind is coming from. When she turned around to face eastwards and the breeze picked up again, she heard the hum again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely this way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way.” She jerked her head and interlinked her spare hand with the Master’s, pulling him along. Charles took up the other side, the males caging her in, keeping her safe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Typical</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me for seeming incompetent, but what is Artron Energy?” Charles asked, sounding a little fearful. Not much of his experiences with advanced life forms had been positive and his trepidation was warranted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the radiation from the Vortex, where time and space intersect. It’s what allows time travel to happen,” she answered and had to bite back the over-complicated explanations she wanted to share. She had gotten quite good at that, biting her tongue but it didn’t feel like her. Nothing felt like her anymore except…except for that noise, that call from the Vortex, that itch to run. She had always been the one to travel through it, always feeling at home but in this body, that urge to run through timelines and the stars was stronger than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was intriguing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master looked at her in concern and left he opened his mouth to ask something but Charles quickly asked another question.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We have a bond so why doesn’t he ask that way?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  She thought. She checked their connection and was greeted by a wall of static. It wasn’t part of her or the Master. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, okay, don’t panic. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She grabbed her mates hand, squeezing it for reassurance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is a Vortex manipulator? I assume it makes this travel a reality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you would be correct but it’s not the only way. We,” the Doctor waved between herself and her mate, “use something called a TARDIS,” the Doctor replied. “A manipulator, in my opinion, is a horrible piece of tech-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped and her hands clamped around her head. The humming had gotten worse, more intense than previous and it took a lot of strength to keep her shields intact. Static pressed against her mind in relentless waves with only a small feeling getting through. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Find. Find. Find.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor was still weak mentally from the disconnection of the tech. Even when she was in her mind scape, she didn’t rest properly so it as taking a lot of her strength to continue to walk to wherever the noise was guiding her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a woodshed hidden by the tree line in front of them and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>reeked</span>
  </em>
  <span> of something. When the Doctor breathed in (the Master following suit), she could smell that old library smell of time but there was another undertone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s metallic, definitely metallic. Rusty even.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ The static between the two Time Lord’s dissolved and the two were quick to share their thoughts with each other, both of them bouncing off each other’s senses and ideas (an underlying thought of ‘I’m never letting you go’ was heard by the Doctor). She watched him lick his lips and inhale through his mouth again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blood,” he declared. “Lots of it. Maybe even some decomposition judging by the strength of it.” He had a point. They were standing maybe ten or so feet away from the building and both of their noses were itching, the Master being more used to it, though (he was her homicidal maniac, of course). She turned around to look at Charles who appeared to be a little green.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to go any further, Charles,” she soothed and placed a hand on his upper arm. The mathematician patted her hand and nodded. “You’ve done so much already.” Charles nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will keep watch.” He moved a few meters back and a position where he could watch both the house and the shed. He was another innocent caught up in a game; it was his mother that provided the prophecy. He was also equal with Ada when it came to how much the Doctor cared and there was somebody encroaching on the Doctor’s space. They would be next after Jeanne if this was somebody picking off associates of the Doctor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep yourself safe,” she called out, that telltale prickle at the back of her neck giving her another warning. “Don’t let anybody see you.” He nodded and stepped inside the tree line, the shadows encasing him in the security of darkness. No human could see him, hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Ready</span>
  </em>
  <span>?’ asked the Master and pulled her to his side, a hand slipping inside his coat she wore. At first, the Doctor thought he was gonna feel her up, getting a tiny bit excited at the thought of doing something like *that* in public (okay, he was right, she did have an exhibitionist streak).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smirk, the Master slipped a hand into a pocket and pulled out his TCE. Unsure of whether she was annoyed at the little box or her body, the Doctor huffed and made her way to the shed, the Master in her shadow and the memory of his bite in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stench of blood was getting stronger alongside the song of the Vortex. It was a lot on all of the Doctor’s senses; shadows danced from the trees and moonlight and she swore that there was somebody watching her (it’s probably just Charles keeping an eye out). It was unnerving and she cursed her body’s predisposition for paranoia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were at the door now and the Master pulled her to the side of it, arm around her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Let me go in first,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ he urged and the Doctor rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Honestly, I’m a big Time Lord now, I can handle the sight of a body,</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ she chastised and made a move to open the door but her mate pulled her to his chest again, her back to his front. His breath ghosted the back of her neck, making her shiver in anticipation, desire maybe? Her mind went back to when he marked her earlier and she felt herself grow uncomfortably warm again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wow, she was getting turned on when there was a corpse maybe two or three meters away? Gods, what was Charles thinking if he was watching them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re unarmed, love,” he whispered. So what? She’s been in worse scenarios and her sonic always helped her out (and the illusion that she’s an idiot) so why should this be any different?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine.” She shrugged the Master off and tested the door to see if it was locked. It opened, creaking as she pushed it open. Immediately, the stench hit her like a rhinoceros and she fought back the urge to gag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, she had that nifty respiratory bypass (great not just when the choking turned from consensual to intent-to-kill) and allowed for her to ‘breathe’ without the smell. She had maybe, four, five minutes of oxygen till she had to take an actual breath, less if she moves and talks (more like argues, to be honest, looking at how worked up the both of them were). Even if the two of them always end up physically talking instead of using the bond, it should be long enough to examine the scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a few steps into the room, the Doctor saw fresh piles of wood, cut and while, pulled to the side of the room and several chopping blocks and axes on the other side. The lack of windows made it hard to see much but it was hard to miss the slumped figure beside the logs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tentatively, the Doctor stepped forward, sonic out and whirring, scanning for anything. It chirped, a sound contrasting the now low hum in the background, and she pulled it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Human, male, maybe forty-fourth century? Artron energy is covering everything else,” she said and the Master came beside her, analysing the scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s been dead for about a few weeks or so, going off decomposition. Looks like several whacks of an axe brought him down. A very messy, very passionate fight occurred I’d say.” He crouched down, angling his head this and way and that before pointing something out on the wrist. “Vortex manipulator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scanned again, this time focusing on the manipulator before shaking her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been deactivated, well, destroyed more like. It’s not leaking at all meaning-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s another manipulator,” he caught up. He stood and sighed, rubbing his hand with his face. “So where is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor listened to the hum, turning around as she tried to find the source. She stepped one way and the humming grew quiet; she stepped the other and it increased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on earth are you doing?” He sounded annoyed but the bond felt concerned and he looked at her bewildered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can feel it. I know it sounds mad but there’s this, this noise, this static. I think it’s what blocked the bond off. It’s just so like…” she trailed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the drums,” he said sombrely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, like the drums.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a tense moment between them, the Master stepping back and forth across the bond as if he was unsure if to comfort her or not. They shared the thought of ‘is this their third attempt to return?’ and neither liked the chill they both had down their backs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who would’ve thought the two of them would be so against the return of the Time Lords? It was their home, the one place they could start a family in safety and yet, she was willing to keep Gallifrey in the dark. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just to keep the timelines intact,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she convinced herself but there was something more. The Doctor put it down to her stint in the Confession Dial and yet, that didn’t seem to be the whole thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, her body knew something that her mind didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We find it, we shut it down and get that noise out of your head,” he commanded and the Doctor bristled at the demanding nature of him, yet, she accepted the order, agreeing that yes, they needed to shut it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if they were amidst the Time War, Gallifrey would still stand at the end of it, thanks to the intervention of Doctor number one through to thirteen (technically). Gallifrey falls no more. Eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Right then, find the manipulator, shut the rift down, get back to Charles and find the killer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like a simple list but usually, it never ends that way,” the Doctor muttered to herself before looking at her mate. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready when you are, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor took a deep breath, looking around the room, something not making sense. She looked at the logs and then to the body. Logs, body. Logs, body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Eureka!’ Cried out Einstein when the two of them had met and the Doctor felt the urge to yell it out. She quickly made her way to the log stack, sniffing it before licking the log. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oak, about a hundred years old, freshly cut, would make a nice air freshener. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did you say he was here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Solid few weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how could somebody not notice him when they placed these new logs in. They’ve been cut about two days ago and he,” she motioned to the body in the corner, “he’s pretty hard to miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” began the Master, hand on his chin as he thought (he looked rather sexy when he’s thinking), “he was here after the logs were placed and decomposition has been sped up but there’s no way it’s natural.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vortex,” she stated. “Once, I cooked a roast chicken for Clara one day because she had this whole entire dinner planned and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> had to pretend to be her boyfriend-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get to the point please, I’m going to have to breathe at some point and rather do it outside.” She rolled her eyes but continued to talk though her explanation was much shorter than she originally planned out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Vortex heats objects up. The chicken was roasted in about half an hour but that was at high levels of concentration so if you have a small amount at low levels...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light flicked on in the Master's head, a knowing grin across his face. Heat speeds up a lot of things; cooking, warming things and even decomposition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find the heat source-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Find the manipulator but what about that humming call inside your head? Not helping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s just there. Like, it’s here but it’s not helping me anymore. I now it sounds crazy that the Vortexis ‘talking’ to me but what’s crazy is that I feel like I am part of it.” The Master looked at her in bewilderment before quickly looking away. Something pained him but he didn’t show her or tell her. The bond gave nothing away to what he was thinking; it was deathly silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor promised to ask later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, lungs burning a bit, they searched around the shed but found no indications of anything being charred from heat which left one place. Underneath the traveller.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, though, she needed to breathe. Preparing herself, she took several deep, manual gulps of air, trying not to throw up at the taste in the air before reverting to her bypass again. The Master followed suit, his own grimace filling the void. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you move him?” The Master looked at her, then the body, then her again in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s mush. I’m not touching that.” He crossed his arms and pouted like a petulant child. He had been by her side throughout this but as soon as he’s needed to do something that would inconvenience him, he’s backing out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, she hated him sometimes. Didn’t help that static had filled the bond between them again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” the Doctor snarled, ready to go on the offensive. “That manipulator is leaking too much energy for my liking and this noise,” she tapped the side of her head aggressively, the persistent hum egging her on to lash out and fight. “Is driving me insane,” the Master winced. “And I really don’t want to be like you so could you please get your head out of your arse and FUCKING HELP ME?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once more, the two of them looked at each other, not making any other sounds or movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master was, surprisingly, the first to break the uncomfortable silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait outside,” he said, turning his head away from her. She was about to argue back, tell him that he couldn’t command her until she thought over her words. She sighed, head hung low and she tried to apologise but the Master shrugged her off, telling her again to wait outside. With a sigh and heavy sigh, she left the shed and the hum died down significantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her emotions died down quickly too. That unrelenting fury she had felt quickly quietened down and the bond ebbed with shame on her end. The Master didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor sat outside on the grass with her back pressed against the wall as she watched the stars and pulled her mate’s coat around her, snuggling into the smell of spices. They were so bright and shiny, burning up in galaxies she had once visited. Her hearts longed to feel the TARDIS in her mind again and her chest ached at the thought of leaving this gods forsaken era. Didn’t help that the siren call of the Vortex was always there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was so entrenched in her stargazing and fantasies of space that she didn’t notice her own bond-mate sit down beside her. She jumped when the Master broke the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got the manipulator.” Said device was hot and humming in a pleasant way and when she held it (the Master watched in concern just in case if she went mental again), it felt like she was holding a piece of home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was old, older than the one Jack had; probably one of the first models. It was abnormally clean, no signs of it being under gloop. There was also a crack on the interface and upon further inspection, the Doctor recognised the crack.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Prisoner Zero has escaped. Prisoner Zero has escaped,” boomed a voice from the crack in Amy’s wall.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathed out a sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the Time Lords,” she started and the Master nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably one of the last cracks of when I had to restart the universe. Big Bang number two.” She held it up, turning it all around. If she had the time, she would disassemble the device, find out every little detail but she didn’t. The prophecy was still in motion and from what she guessed this ‘Ghost’ sounds like a potential problem. Nothing that rises is good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor pulled out her sonic and was about to scan it when the Master stopped her by placing his hand on hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure that’s wise, Doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, alright? I know what I’m doing.” The bond resonated with ‘sure you do’ but it also was flooded with trust. He let go of her hand and she smiled when she started to scan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Okay, that’s weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first scan proved it was leaking Artron energy, the connection between the device and the Vortex still open. The second scan was to see if there was anything she missed, something that you couldn’t see and there was: two different sets of DNA.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor scanned the time traveller in the shed and his DNA was one of the sets. The other also belonged to another human male from the forty-fourth. The mystery man’s DNA was the most prominent and it was thus safe to assume the manipulator belonged to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right then, we can track this other guy now. Just need to close this little breach first.” Chinny had the most experience with these cracks so she drew up his memories and knowledge (it had been several thousand years since she was him and whilst she had three brains, she can’t remember everything in an instant, there’d be too much noise and the headache would be horrible). He had dealt with the cracks by throwing in a complicated space-time event but the Doctor was by no means willing to throw herself into a rift (again). She had people to live for and was pretty sure the Master would bring her back just to kill her himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How complicated do you think that guy's timeline is?” The Doctor voiced and the Master pondered for a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if he's anything like that mongrel-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean Jack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mongrel,” he affirmed and she quirked an eyebrow at him. He gave her a cheeky smirk before thinking again. “I’d say very complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alright, got a complicated time traveller so that’s crossed out. Just gotta open up this rift fully…just enough to chuck in the body and close it up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Admittedly, she felt guilty; she was erasing a man from time and space, all those memories and feelings gone as if they didn’t exist in the first place but she needed to do this. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’ Anyway, if he had interacted with any other temporal anomalies, they’d remember him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stood up, pulling the Master up with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need you to shut that door when I open up this crack alright? We shut the door, we run?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and held the door, prepared to do as he’s told (for once). With trepidation, the doctor pointed her sonic once again at the manipulator though this time, she willed the crack in the interface to open.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Open, open, open, open, come on!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard the crack open before she saw the golden light of Artron energy spill. The humming had grown worse, louder than ever before. The Doctor looked down, staring into the heart of the crack and felt something brought forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She was so alone. So confused.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The fabric she wore felt heavy for her little frame and it dragged her shoulders down. She couldn’t cry, no, she shouldn’t cry. She was strong for her age but…but…she was so alone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked up at the two long, concrete spires that had the purple glow of the portal and sniffled. Her head hurt so much!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted to go home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor was ripped back into reality and quickly threw the manipulator into the shed, her body and mind numb. The door was shut and she was dragged back away from the shed. She was once again in the Master’s arm as the crack swallowed up the all evidence of the man’s life, alongside with the shed itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a quiet implosion, the shed collapsing in on itself. The Doctor heard through the hum how the crack was slowly becoming full like a greedy monster. The noise was quietening down significantly and eventually disappeared as the shed did too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that? Did you see it?” She whispered into his chest, confusion seeping into both ends of their bond. The Master said nothing and just rubbed her lower back. The confusion between their minds was suddenly overwhelmed with resolve from the Master and the Doctor looked up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to have a talk,” he said, looking into the distance before turning his attention to her. He cupped her cheek, “though first, we need to solve this prophecy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to tell me now?” The Doctor tried to push her way to whatever was bothering him but the Master blocked her path quickly and effectively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” The Master pulled away from her and started to walk back to the manor. The Doctor stared at his back, biting her lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘We’ll finish this quickly and then you’re telling me everything, Kosch.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ Her statement left no room for him to manoeuvre and she saw his head nod in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to track him, love?” He called out and the Doctor nodded at the deflection. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that he’d be honest with her straight away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fumbling with the buttons on her sonic, she started to track him, the device beeping erratically whenever she pointed it in the right direction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The manor!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles!” She yelled for her friend and picked up her skirts in one hand, running to catch up with the Master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trio was reunited at the back entrance of the manor. The Master was the one to shiver now and the Doctor handed him back his coat. He took it gratefully and once he pulled it one, the Doctor was pulled to his side by a hand around her waist. Charles looked at them sweetly before yawning. It must’ve been very late for a human and even if it was late, the whole entire day was a trial of one’s wits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to your mother, Charles. Keep her safe. She could be in a position of danger.” It was poised as a command to protect an innocent but both Time Lords knew that the old woman wasn’t a potential victim. Charles needed to rest and he would be safe with Mrs Babbage. If this murderer was crazy then the Doctor needed people to be sharp and ready to run; Charles was none of those at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you are sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s right. Keep an eye on your mother,” the Master interjected and the Doctor mouthed ‘thank you’ at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then, I guess this is good night and good luck, to both of you.” With that, he entered the manor and the Doctor heard his footsteps going down the ground floor hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With as many innocents out the way as possible, the Doctor was prepared to find this bastard. The Master gently took her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing her knuckles, ever the gentleman.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’ll follow your lead, Thete, and I’ll be by your side, always.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Promise?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor activated her tracking again and stepped into the manor, the sonic immediately pointing her up the staircases. Her hearts sped up at the thought of Jeanne and Andrew alone, defenceless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were three levels to the house: ground, one and two. Jeanne was on level one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking two steps at the time, the Doctor ran up the steps, forgetting she wore a corset again. Gods, she didn’t think she’d used her bypass so often in one day. Her ribs ached as she stood on level one, waving her sonic all over the place to get a reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tracker said that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was on the same level as they were. The same level as Jeanne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stepped out into the hallway, only a few candles lighting their way. It felt apt to have no lighting, a murder was afoot and they were solving it in the style of an old mystery novel. Once the Doctor was back on her TARDIS, she was locking every murder book away (and burning every corset at the same time).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They checked every door they passed, the Doctor scanning and the Master listening at the doors for any signs of an inhabitant. Nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, they made their way to the hallway where Charles’s room was and where Emily laid, cold. With every step towards Emily’s room, dread settled in the Doctor’s hearts as her intuition went wild. It couldn’t be…there’s no way it could be. Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Foregoing the last five doors or so, the Doctor ran straight to the room where she left Andrew and Jeanne alone, the sonic chirping more and more frequently, urgently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Practically kicking the door open, the Doctor burst into the room. She pointed her sonic at Andrew and it chirped its final sounds: </span>
  <em>
    <span>tracking complete.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” She growled out and Jeanne jumped up from her place beside Andrew on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What iz the meaning of this? ‘Ave you gone mad?” Andrew was a good actor, tugging on Jeanne’s hand to let it go. A few tears slid down his cheeks as he looked at Emily’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A normal human would’ve stopped crying a long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know about your little mate down in the shed,” added the Master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me guess, he was your partner in whatever mission you’re on-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” spat out Jeanne, venom rolling off her tongue. The Doctor ignores the Frenchwoman, anger flowing through her veins at the liar in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It got heated for some reason and you killed him. An axe I believe.” She turned to look at the Master who nodded in agreement. She wouldn’t stop talking until he broke and this body was ever so good at talking for hours (Yaz can attest to that).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, leave me alone,” he sobbed, covering his hands with his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he…did he just use contractions?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Got you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, mate, we know you’re a time traveller from the forty-fourth century. You used a Vortex manipulator to jump from here to then and, by the way, noblemen of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>nineteenth-century</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t use contractions.” The sobbing stopped and the man looked up, a murderous grin across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It reminded the Doctor of when O turned out to be the Master; that same grin with madness and murder running through it. At least the Master had the audacity to look sexy in that suit. This man was just plain fucking wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well done, Doctor, well done.” He clapped his hands in a way that would’ve had Ryan call him the Joker. Andrew’s actions were rehearsed and planned so similar to the Master it was startling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘You getting the same feelings as I am?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ she asked and the Master gave a nod through the bond. He moved so that he stood beside her, his hands in his pockets and the Doctor knew he was holding the TCE.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew (or whoever he was) stood and stalked the edge of his side of the room, stopping in front of the window. Jeanne didn’t know what to do as she glanced between the Doctor and Andrew. She would’ve been safer behind the Doctor yet, their relationship was rocky and as long as Andrew was unarmed and by the window, she would be safe and out of the way. The Doctor let her stay in the middle though she kept an eye on the Frenchwoman as she continued to ask questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you kill Emily?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He gave a nonchalant glance towards the blanket-covered form before looking back out the window. He opened it up, sighing before turning around and glaring down at the Time Lords. “She means nothing. Just an easy way to get to you, Doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She meant something to me!” Cried out Jeanne and she made a move to hit Andrew but surprisingly, the Master growled her name and she stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.” Jeanne stopped and backed down, heading the unspoken warning: this man is dangerous and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> kill you for fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why me? I’m stuck here, you could’ve just talked to me instead of all this!” She waved her hands around the room, groping impatient with the fact that Andrew was saying pretty much nothing. Nothing of use anyway. The Master too was getting irritated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master inched closer, predator hunting predator. Andrew stepped back, his body pressed against the window sill and reached inside his vest, pulling out a silver blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Kosch…</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ the Doctor warned, her breath catching in her throat. Yes, both of them were highly skilled in combat and a human with a tiny blade would be easy to disarm but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be worried for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Go to your pet. I’ve got him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ The Doctor moved towards Jeanne as the Master launched at Andrew but the human was surprisingly nimble. He ducked to the side, his arm jerking before he leapt over the window sill, sailing out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In hindsight, the Doctor really should’ve identified the blade. It was tapered and was perfect for throwing, hitting its target with ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeanne swayed and then slumped to the floor as the Doctor cried out in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time seemed to slow down as Jeanne’s black skirts rumpled and fluttered in the wake of her collapse. The Doctor couldn’t seem to move quick enough to catch her and merely knelt at her side, fingers grazing where the blade had pierced the thin cotton of her dress and the flimsy material of a summer corset. The blade itself was sharp enough to sink through completely, only the hilt poking out from between her fifth and sixth rib, puncturing her left lung. Jeanne wheezed and sputtered and the Doctor shushed her gently, stroking her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” she whispered between tears. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” She held her friend’s hand and smiled gently, trying to be reassuring. Medical attention would do jack shit and by the time a doctor would arrive from the town that was bloody miles away, Jeanne would be long gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing she could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood was coughed up and the blade jostled in her side. Jeanne moaned, trying to talk but the Doctor shushed her once again before pressing her fingers to her friend’s temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor easily pushed into her mind and was met immediately with pain and confusion but what overpowered all of these feelings was sadness and the knowing that one was going to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed out, tears streaming down her face now as her heart clenched up. “I am so, so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like losing the Ponds again. Jeanne had become her best friend and she was losing her. The Doctor's hearts clenched up and breathing was getting hard. She couldn’t lose her, she just </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She needed Jeanne, needed her to make the world brighter and happier; to take her across the world and dance with no worries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, it was all her fault! She should never have lied to her in the first place. She should’ve stayed behind. She should’ve done something better, forced Jeanne behind her instead of leaving the woman in the line of fire. Goddamnit!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t expect Jeanne to respond back in her mind. ‘It’s alright’ her thoughts seemed to say. ‘I forgive you.’ The Doctor choked out a little sob and pressed her forehead against Jeanne’s, her body shaking from the force of her crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Memories seemed to float by now as Jeanne edged closer to the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At first, they were images of a childhood in the warmth of the southern French sun. The Doctor could smell the lavender that surrounded the manor where Jeanne grew up from and could feel the scratch of the grass on her feet. She saw a young girl run around a field, giggling as butterflies danced in the breeze.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the distance, the Doctor could see a tall shadowy man watching the young girl. He was perhaps twenty years her senior and the name Lord Alexander Thomas was brought forward. He was an old friend of Jeanne’s parents.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Next was a scene where Jeanne disembarked on a boat as a young teenager, Lord Thomas there to greet her. He was to take up the position of her guardian after the death of Jeanne’s parents. Jeanne was scared but all too happy to see her old friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then, when Jeanne was eighteen, she was marrying Lord Thomas, completely and utterly in love with him. How could she not be? He had looked after her, made sure she was safe and well educated. ‘A proper lady of England, you are,’ was the response to Jeanne’s growing up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Years later, there were no children in sight for Jeanne. The world became dark with that revelation and then her husband died. It did give her room to explore and meet new fellows but the world had grown grim as she found no purpose. Perhaps, she could go travelling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was only when she was on a walk and saw a woman in a red dress crying did the world seem to brighten and it continued to glow as the two women became closer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jeanne wanted to be more than friends but Joan had made it clear that she did not wish to be more but that didn’t stop Jeanne from loving her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even when she was with Emily, Jeanne still loved Joan.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor gasped as the memories faded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Jeanne,” she murmured and pressed a kiss to the woman’s forehead. They were still telepathically connected through Jeanne felt weaker with every passing second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To ease her pain, the Doctor pushed her feelings of Jeanne towards the woman; she pushed her love, her joy, her gratitude and her apologies. They bathed together in memories of each other and where they went travelling. They saw the different perspectives of one another during their shared experiences. It was beautiful and yet so, so sorrowful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was something Jeanne would experience once and the Doctor would soon lose her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeanne wheezed once more and her mind slowed down completely with only one little sentence on repeat:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Je t'aime. Je t'aime. Je t'aime.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind stopped and the Doctor was returned to her own headspace. It was horrifying to feel somebody’s death. It made bile rise up her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Je t'aime.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor closed her eyes, trying to stem the never-ending stream of tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Je t'aime.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hearts hurt so much she felt they’d explode. Her body shook and her mouth ran dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Je t'aime.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeanne’s last thoughts bounced around the Doctor’s head and the French words were followed by ‘why?’. Why Jeanne? Why all this bullshit? Why? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span>? WHY?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Je t'aime.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused anger filled her body now. The Oncoming Storm was on the horizon and the Doctor had no will to stop her. She wanted answers and the Storm was the only person who could get them yet…she couldn’t leave Jeanne.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Je t'aime.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps forced the Doctor to open her eyes and through their blurriness, she saw the Master, her mate, her best friend, her solace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw it, love. I saw it and felt it,” he whispered and crouched beside the Doctor. He stroked her hand and pulled her into an awkward side hug. She didn’t return it but instead continued to stroke Jeanne’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat there, the bond eerily quiet as he gave her mental space. They didn’t talk for a while as the growing anger in the Doctor suddenly surged into an inferno; it contrasted the growing numbness in her body and bones, no strength to move from her fallen friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why? What was the whole point? So much waste, so much death and for what? For her? What was so special about the Doctor that people wanted to kill to get close to her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want answers,” she said coldly. She turned to look at the Master who nodded absentmindedly. “I want answers and I want them now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was only one person who had them and that was Andrew but he had fled the scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t have gotten far,” responded the Master to her thoughts and she felt his determination leaking through alongside fury. It wasn’t fury for Jeanne or Emily or the man in the shed but for his mate. He was furious because somebody caused pain to her (Koschei had always been possessive, protective). He would do anything now and she was glad for the advantage of a pissed off Time Lord; nothing could stop the Master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go get him.” It wasn’t the Doctor saying this, no, it was the Oncoming Storm, anger personified. It was cold anger compared to the fire of Chinny and Pinstripes. It wasn’t manic-like Eyebrows either; it was cold, calculating </span>
  <em>
    <span>hatred</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She would’ve done it herself but she couldn’t leave either Jeanne or Emily. Even in death, they needed somebody to watch over them. Their death was permanent and she would give them the respect they deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master was tentative, unsure if he should actually leave her in her grief but with a sharp glare from her, the Master made a move to leave. Before though, he pressed his lips against hers, pulling away to mutter against her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back, soon. I promise you.” He kissed her again before leaving the room in haste, turning at the doorway to look at her. She nodded and smiled slightly before turning her attention back to Jeanne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard his footsteps fade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be the last sound she’d hear from him for the next thirty-seven years.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please, do let me know if this chapter was alright. I am quite nervous about writing graphic scenes (but I do wish to extend my repertoire) so yeah, let me know.</p><p>Hit me up at V4n1r on Tumblr. My 'ask questions' is always opened. </p><p>Thank you for the kudos!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A Dern Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dern:</p><p>Adjective</p><p>Secrets, hidden, dark; can also mean ‘hidden feelings’ </p><p>Warnings: mild mention of blood and torture</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master was quick to follow his mate’s orders. Yes, he wanted to stay by her side (the grief she was radiating would stay with him for years, he knew it) but at the same time, he knew that his presence would do nothing for the Doctor. In fact, the Master wasn’t sure that she was the Doctor. No, the bond was echoing something a lot darker than he’d expect from the bright, rainbow obsessed female. </p><p>In the past, he would’ve called this the starting point of her corruption and watch as the Doctor destroyed herself; he’d have helped destroy her own identity, drag her off her high horse down to his level and make her <em> burn </em>. He knew about the Valeyard and even worked with the amalgamation of darkness once upon a time but the timestreams were in constant motion around the Doctor; was that version of the Valeyard still a possibility or was that an aborted timeline now? Looking at what the bond was relaying to him, the Master could see the downfall of the Doctor on the horizon. It brought an empty, hollow feeling to his chest that the Master wasn’t prone to feeling often. Fear maybe? Or was it sorrow at the inevitable?</p><p>No, he couldn’t have the Doctor go dark. He needed her to be his light, his salvation and his home. She was already at her fourteenth regeneration with the Valeyard coming into existence at her penultimate regeneration but...wasn’t this all before the truth came out? The Time Lords saw the Doctor as a normal being and thus, in their eyes, the Valeyard was the Doctor’s final body but she was, in fact, immortal with an infinite amount of regenerations. The Valeyard could merely be a title, a persona just like the Doctor is covering up Theta. The Master and the Valeyard...has a nice ring to it but the Master didn’t want to lose this Doctor, not yet. He had just found her and gods be damned, he was going to keep her for a little while longer.</p><p>He was going to get this bastard for her, find out why somebody is targeting his mate, kill them and then, finally, get the Doctor back on track. He’d take her back to her pets and to her TARDIS and sort out that whole Kasaavin mess he’d been skipping out on. It just wasn’t as fun without the Doctor chasing him down (and having her around in general). </p><p>Koschei loved Theta with all his hearts. The Master would do anything for the Doctor.</p><p>Upon her command, the Master left the room, knowing that his lover would be safe. Only an idiot would return to the scene and though this ‘Andrew’ was human, he was by no means, a fool. The human would now try to flee the scene and the Master wondered as he ran down the hall and stairs if Andrew had another method of escape. Where to start looking for the pest? Examining where he landed would take too much time and he didn’t need to check for a body, any T.A (assuming he was an agent) worth their salt could survive that so he needed to work out a route to search all prime escape places.</p><p>It was just good fortune he memorised the area, wasn’t it?</p><p>First stop was the stables (no signs of a horse being taken out of its stall), then, it was the main road (a brief glimpse at the gravel had no new footprints) and so, there were the small tracks leading out of the manor grounds, into a nearby forest and...headed towards his TARDIS, damn it!</p><p>He parked where all the tracks intersected, just in case the reunion with the Doctor went south and he needed a quick getaway (and it was also the only place the stupid, broken Chameleon Circuit would let him land). If this was a mission or something, then handlers would’ve intervened the moment the Master’s TARDIS materialised. </p><p><em> Perhaps Andrew was told the mission was over? </em> Thought the Master. <em> Then he got pissed off. Spending time here would drive anyone insane enough to slaughter a superior.  </em></p><p>The Master jogged lightly to the nearest trail from where Andrew landed and saw a few disturbances in the gravel and surrounding grass. The grass itself had turned slightly brown and patchy in some parts, the coarse dirt showing. It made the ability to track Andrew’s footprints so much easier even though he didn’t necessarily track the man through conventional methods. It was pretty obvious where he was going. </p><p>He sighed out in resignation. <em> Yeah, he’s heading for the TARDIS. Fucking idiot.  </em></p><p>Andrew had a solid four minutes and thirty-six seconds on the Master (alright, maybe he should’ve checked that area first) but he was human, the Master was a Time Lord who slaughtered thousands of Daleks. Andrew had nothing on him. With murderous glee, like a lion hunting down his prey, the Master took out his TCE and pressed the button that would allow him to teleport to the set home destination: his TARDIS.</p><p>The teleport made him feel like he was being compressed and then, with a flash of light, he was in his TARDIS. He’d only been gone for about twenty-four hours and yet, the ship was all too ready to welcome him home with a brush of its telepathic circuits against his mind. The connection between a TARDIS and her pilot(s) was unique; it was deep as a mating bond and the pilots involved soon saw their TARDIS as part of their family. The Master had grown quite attached to his TARDIS and could now understand the Doctor’s anxiety about being separated from hers. </p><p>He’d get this asshole and he’d return his mate to her home. Fuck, he was an idiot all those years ago, leaving her on this rock in a period where she was broken down merely to her reproductive abilities. <em> Theta, I promise you, I will make this up to you.  </em></p><p>The TARDIS chirped and the Master listened for a second, sighing into the brush of her telepathic circuits before heading towards the centre console. The red light flashed and faded from the centre of the console as the TARDIS continued to chirp and worble as the Master looked at the reading about the outside world. She was trying to communicate something and flashed a reading into the pilot bond as her worry became overwhelming.</p><p>
  <em> Fucking great.  </em>
</p><p>The crack that the Doctor had sealed had inadvertently harmed his TARDIS. That crack, compared to the Rift of Cardiff, was far more malicious and hungry and fed off the TARDIS’ energy as well as cracking some of her key circuits (specifically, life-support and shielding). He’d need to manually reset and fix the shielding (it would take a solid few days to fix that) but he didn’t have the luxury of time to do that, even in a time machine. His whole body was buzzing with anxiety and he just wanted a certain petite brunette back in his arms, safe and sound. </p><p>“I don’t have time. I’m trying to find a human,” he muttered and the ship gave another sound.</p><p>‘<em> Yeah? There are two-hundred and seven in a five-mile radius. Which one? I need to repair, Master. </em>’ Missy enjoyed the snarkiness of the TARDIS and he rather loved having something else to talk to in the outback but he really didn’t need her comments at the moment. He growled and looked at the ceiling. </p><p>“Fortieth-century, male, high levels of adrenaline and stupidity, do you need more?” He was short and sharp in his comment and the TARDIS just chirped sassily back, sounding a bit like ‘fuck off’ to the Master. Even if the ship was pissed off, she was nothing but reliable. The nearest display screen flashed with a set of coordinates and he felt the smugness of the TARDIS in his mind. He pushed back a little bit (not much, don’t want her getting an ego) of gratitude before he teleported to the new destination. </p><p>He landed right beside the human, grabbing the man by the cuff of his shirt and then returning. </p><p>The Master threw the man onto the floor, standing above him. The ship became eerily silent and dimmed all the lights except for the red ones from the console. Like her pilot, she was dramatic and enjoyed a little sadism; it was why the Master picked her out of all the other available ones (and she was one of the newest versions too).</p><p>“Hello, Andrew.” It was a fake cordiality, the Master was barely maintaining control. He could still feel bits and pieces of the Doctor’s grief, it soon becoming a pain she couldn’t control anymore. She was hurting all because of this man and if the Master couldn’t keep his cool, then he’d be left with a pile of bloody mush and no answers.</p><p>“Master,” the man spat out and tried to stand up but the Master was quick to place a foot on his chest, keeping him down.<em> If I press a little harder…You hurt my mate.  </em></p><p>The TARDIS grew intrigued at that thought and the Master allowed the ship into the other parts of his mind, letting it explore the changes in his psyche, the mating bond having taken up a large part now. She accepted the change immediately, fully prepared to assist in whatever the Master needed to. For once, the Master was glad at the TARDIS’ ingrained need to protect; she would do anything for both him and his mate (the Doctor was now a sort of pseudo-pilot, the TARDIS would treat her as an equal from here on out). </p><p>She beeped out a warning (‘<em> Don’t. You need him </em>.’) when the Master put his body weight onto the man's chest and he eased off just a little bit, enough so that he wouldn’t die. Taking another precaution, he pulled out his TCE and pointed it at him.</p><p>“Make one move and-”</p><p>“You’ll shrink me down. Yadda, yadda, boring,” Andrew sang out the last part and rolled his eyes. The Master was curious; many would’ve feared him, cowered and begged for their lives if he pointed his little box at them but Andrew was genuinely bored. Great, this bastard was as crazy as he was. The Master felt nostalgic for a second, thinking back to when Saxon and Missy had meant and joined forces on the Mondasian Ship which ultimately didn’t end well. </p><p>Yeah, that ended up with him regenerating. </p><p>Twice. </p><p>‘Never trust yourself’ was what the Master had learnt that day and so, what does he do with a man as psychotic as he (though more stupid and<em> human </em>)? Simple. Some very horrible, messy but satisfying activities that only he (and his TARDIS) will enjoy and soon, the man would be singing like a little bird. </p><p>The Master dragged the human up by his waistcoat lapels and twisted his arm around his back; the man was now locked into the Master’s grip, no way of escape either. In fact, his chance of survival was dwindling with every step the duo took as they travelled deeper into the TARDIS. Andrew prattled on and on about how much he enjoyed murdering the three other humans.</p><p>“Though, I wouldn’t’ve mind making the Frenchie hurt a little more.” The Master was unsure if Andrew was just trying to connect with him, make the Time Lord realise that they were the same. It was futile as the Time Lord had heard it all: ‘Do you have children? I do.’ ‘Are you married? My wife is pregnant’ and now he could add ‘Do you like torturing people? I do.</p><p>And his mind was already made up about the end result. All of this effort was just to get answers and make him bleed for his crimes against the Doctor. </p><p>The Master had always been possessive of the Doctor; had been since their first kiss. </p><p>They were deep in the bowels of the TARDIS now, the ship herself applying more security measures every time they passed a door. It was a warship after all and Andrew was its prisoner so she’d placed in a manner of precautions though they were mainly redundant as the Master would never let the human out of his sight. </p><p>Soon, the human will learn just how much the Master enjoyed making somebody bleed.</p><p>They soon came to a stop in front of a thick, metal door. It was clean on the outside and when the door swung open, a heat that was similar to a Gallifreyan summer hit the duo. The Master was comfortable in the room as he’d be slipping of his coat and rolling up his sleeves later but the man had already started to sweat. The warmth was radiating from the engine room of the TARDIS as well as an additional fire pit in the centre. It was already decked out in all manner of tools, some modern and some ancient (one could never go wrong with a pair of pliers) and a bunch of chains dangled from both the walls and the ceilings. Some devout humans would call this room hell-like but to the Master, it was just a bit of fun.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Andrew had soon worn his voice raw and his blood was now pooling onto the floor. He was strapped to a chair similar to the one both Saxon and Missy had been carted around a long time ago. The Master held a poker in his hand, the tip glowing a soft yellow-white. He waved it around, its tip getting close to Andrew’s body with every swipe and swing. The man ground in fear and closed his eyes, bloody, split lip pursed in preparation for the pain. It didn’t come but the Master laughed.</p><p>“Oh, Andrew, open up.” The Master was growing tired of the human; he would not say anything and instead, screamed through the pain. Gods, he was so like the freak, Jack something. <em> Was it the Agency prerogative to make the dullest agents ever? </em>He was getting increasingly anxious the longer he was away from his beloved. He needed answers now.</p><p>With a sigh, the Master grabbed a rag the TARDIS provided and wiped his forearms clean. It was a useless thing to do bearing in mind he’d need to shower anyway (and change his entire outfit) but it helped ground him in the moment. What the fuck was he going to do? He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, flicking little beads of sweat of his forehead. There was one final option but he’d rather not do<em> that</em>; a human mind would not withstand the onslaught of a Time Lord’s psyche. He’d be ripped apart from the inside out, his brain would fry and he’d be nothing but mush. Efficient, yes, but the Master knew the Doctor (or whoever she was right now) would want her own revenge, get her own answers, spill blood herself. Andrew needed to be alive but if he wasn’t willing to open his mouth, then he had no choice.</p><p>“I just need one name, Andrew. One name, and this all over,” tried the Master. He moved away from all the tools he had pulled out and moved to a plain, bare wall, leaning on it with his hands up. “Just one word. If not, the next thing I will do to you will be far worse than before. I guarantee it.”</p><p>He could snap his neck or let him bleed out…the Master can kill in many, many ways. </p><p>There was a pregnant pause, neither man willing to break the silence. The Master would give him a few more minutes to mull over his options (speak and die reasonably comfortable or don’t speak and perish in agony) but his fingers itched to wrap themselves around the man’s throat; mercy wasn’t a word in the Master’s vocabulary and yet, he was giving his prisoner a chance. Perhaps the Doctor really did have more influence than the Master originally thought.</p><p>He pushed himself further into the wall and let the TARDIS into his mind, needing a second opinion on the matter.</p><p>The ship floated around in muted glee, happy to have the bond open with her pilot fully open but she also knew that she had a job to do. It wasn’t the first time the Master required the opinion of his ship; the TARDIS could see the past, present and future and since the two of them had been flying around for a few thousand years together, their views were aligned perfectly (though the TARDIS would never show him the answers to the desired future he wanted, merely land him to places and let him work it out himself, the prat). The pilot showed her his memories of Andrew and the feelings attributed to him, including the utter fury at the knowledge the human was trying to get close to his mate but he did not need to do so. Of course, she knew about him for a long time coming (the Master felt resentment) and she needn’t think twice about her options. </p><p>The hull of the ship shivered and a hollow noise echoed around the room as her decision floated into the Master’s mind.</p><p>‘<em>Bless. She hasn’t even stepped one foot in and yet, you’re already claiming her. </em>’ He stroked the wall absentminded and he got a flick of annoyance in response.</p><p>‘<em>She is yours but do not forget what she is, pilot, </em> ’ the TARDIS whispered back. ‘ <em> She is part of the Vortex like I and all other TARDIS’ are. She is our angel, the Vortex’s acolyte and we will do anything to protect her, very much like you but I warn you of this, dearest Master. </em> ’ The Master felt something brush against his cheek, very much like a mother caresses her child. ‘ <em> The road ahead is rough and it has the potential to destroy not just you, but the Child and her bloodline- </em>‘</p><p>‘<em>Her bloodline?! What the fu- </em>‘</p><p>‘<em>Hush, Master, </em> ’ chided the TARDIS, letting out a low hum that was eerily similar to the one the Master briefly heard from the Doctor’s mind. ‘ <em> The bloodline is at risk, we need it to continue and the human cannot live to meet his superiors- </em> ‘</p><p>‘<em>So it is an organization. </em>’</p><p>‘<em>What did I tell you? Quiet. I cannot tell you anymore but please, get whatever information you can get out of the human and end. Him. Now. </em>’</p><p>The room drastically dropped down in temperature as the fire was extinguished, the room turning from red-orange to blue as all of the previously used tools and weapons disappeared and even the solid metal floor changed to grating, water now reflecting light from underneath. The whole aura of the room had turned into some sort of sinking ship. It was comforting to the Master, preparing him for what’s next: breaking Andrew’s mind open.</p><p>“Andrew, this is your final chance.” Actually, he was all out of chances the moment he had leapt out of the window but, he did give the man the option earlier before the TARDIS forced the Master’s hand. Obviously, this bloodline meant a lot to the TARDIS and perhaps the entire universe but why should it concern him, all he wanted to do was to retrieve answers per his mates demand and return to her? Well, the bloodline<em> was </em>the Timeless Child’s bloodline and assuming monogamy, it was also<em> his </em>bloodline, <em> his </em>future children in danger.</p><p>The man didn’t say anything but the Master could smell the fear rolling off him.</p><p><em> Yes</em>, he thought, <em> you should be scared. </em> </p><p>He left his position on the wall and strode towards the bound man with the TARDIS purring in the background in sadistic apprehension. Andrew struggled against his bindings as the Master lifted his fingers but the strap going across his forehead kept his head in place. The Master touched his temples and forced himself through the weak mental shield that only a few select humans had. The mongrel had one and back on the Valient, he took full advantage of killing him through his mind over and over again but Andrew’s was far weaker. </p><p>The fear the TARDIS had helped to create made the Master’s job far easier, boringly easy, to be honest. Looking at the resolve Andrew had shown through their earlier activity, the Time Lord had expected his mind to put up more of a fight but instead, he was given a frazzled, knotted mess of a mind amidst a flight or fright response. The primal urge to run away broke down any other little barriers Andrew had built and the Master walked through his memories with grace. </p><p>The reason why he was breaking Andrew apart jumped at him and the Master was thrown into the past. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Do you know why I had you brought here?” </em>
</p><p><em> There was a woman in front of him, a patch covering one eye. Madame Kovarian was striking in her deadly aura and a chill ran down Max’s back. She was part of his future, about eight hundred centuries or so and yet, she was willing to alter the timelines just to see him. He should be flattered but really, she was a psycho bitch that would slaughter thousands. Let’s not even begin to think about the Silence and their dominance over old Earth. </em>Play itself and I might survive. </p><p>
  <em> “I assume,” he responded, sliding into a seat opposite the woman, his heart beating fast and his palms becoming sweaty. “You require skills that no one in your troupe has? Skills that I have.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Kovarian had a datapad placed in front of her and when Max looked at it in interest, she pushed it towards him. It was unlocked and a file was already opened though there was no information on the screen. Just a photo.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A woman around her mid-thirties was sitting by a window in a house with the photographer taking the image from a corner. The image itself was very high quality and if he zoomed in, Max could see the fatigue in her eyes (creepy but useful). He studied the blonde for a while (her hair was actually brown judging by the roots so she was actually a bottle blonde and therefore, not of that century) and then swiped left through a few more images, each one with the woman looking more and more forlorn. Finally, he came to the real intel: name, age, species.  </em>
</p><p>The Doctor, unknown, Time Lord. </p><p>
  <em> Oh, fuck no.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why do you want the Doctor? I thought your organisation just wanted to kill them?” Max leaned back, trying to put on an air of indifference when actually he was very panicked.  </em>
</p><p>Fuck, fuck, fuck what have I got myself into?</p><p>
  <em> Kovarian pulled the datapad back towards herself and stood up, straightening her jacket as she did so.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That version of the Doctor is from our future. Obviously, we failed,” she snarled and Max watched whilst she paced. “So, it’s time for a new approach.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Which, for some fucking reason, involves me? I’m just a historian and-“  </em>
</p><p><em> “And you’re also one of the best assassin your quadrant had seen.” Her back was facing him as she watched her army through a wide window. Granted, he was. He’d cut people down across multiple time periods and he rivalled </em>the <em> Professor River Song when it comes to historical trivia though nobody could beat her during a pub quiz.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “So you’re still killing them?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No.” Oh for fucks sake, could this woman just tell him what’s happening! She turned on the spot and stared Max down. “With your help, we will kill the Doctor with the Doctor’s help.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hold up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Isn’t that a bit of a paradox? Haven’t studied them, wasn’t my field but I know killing your past self also kills you and thus, you can’t kill yourself.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Kovarian sighed in annoyance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s our job to worry about. Yours is to collect the Doctor for us. She has isolated herself and only the Silence are able to get close but they cannot catch her. Of course, the Doctor does not remember any of this but we’ve been watching her for a long time.” She moved to sit down once again and Max shuffled a little bit. He had never had to capture somebody before and he was way out of his depth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m pretty sure there are plenty of other people who are experts at kidnapping,” drawled Max.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “None that have bothered to study old Earth history.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “True.”  </em>
</p><p><em> “I’m offering four thousand krells for this job. Half of it now and the rest once she’s in our hands.” </em> Holy fuck, that’s a lot. <em> “And you will be given everything you need to complete this job. I’ve already had my people plan out a majority of the work and all you need to do is to get close to her.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Good pay, no effort, all of the equipment would be given… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal, Kovarian.” </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Before he left to start the job, Max was given a small shot and implant in the back of his neck. ‘To stop any diseases’ he was told but there was definitely something else in it; it made him jumpy and sometimes there was a voice that talked to him, telling him what to do. He wanted to rip the little device from out under his skin but he just couldn’t. It was like his own body was stopping him from doing it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was just easier to let the weird-ass madness take over.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Earth girl he used to get close was a good fuck now and then and was also so fucking dumb but she was a good way to get into the Doctor’s inner circle. A handler would pop in and out of the time period, giving him little assignments here and there. Since the girl would commune with the Doctor, Max would slip in a small scammer into her handbag and when she returned, he’d hand over all the data he had collected on the Doctor. Sometimes he’d go to Devils Run or the handler would come to him; this  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was during one of these hand-overs in a small little shed at some shitty wedding or something where Max was told that the mission had been failed. A miscalculation on their end meant that their mission had started too early. ‘She isn’t ready’ was the handlers excuse and that they’d need to clean up the small mess Max had made. They blamed him! Him! Rage made Max’s vision grow red and the little voices were telling him what to do.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a scuffle and Max couldn’t remember much of it but he knew his manipulator got caught and was torn off his wrist. By the time he came around, there was an axe in his hands and the handler was slumped in the corner.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> He was gonna end the little bitch he was with. Too long had he listened to her natter on and on about some stupid shit and then she was sleeping with some other slut.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d show her. He’d show her how little she meant to him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe, he could get rid of the other one as well. Make the Doctor hurt. It was all her fault anyway.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Kill! Kill! Kill! Run!</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> He’d thrown the blade and jumped out of the window, landing with skill and ease before he took off into the forest. He knew there was another Time Lord here, the handler was good to tell him that snippet. He could steal whatever this other one was using to travel and get away and plot revenge.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Run! Run! Run! Run! </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> He was caught by a stranger he’d met briefly, the other Time Lord it seems.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Die! Die! Die! Die! </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Master pulled out of the man's head and let out a groan of disgust when he opened his eyes. Juice ran out of the human's nose and ears, eyes unfocused and jaw hanging open. Ugh, liquified brains were always a bitch to clean up but that was something he would worry about later (maybe the TARDIS would be so obliging to just delete this room and it’s contents). Right now, he had something else far more troubling. </p><p>“Fucking Kovarian,” he cursed the woman’s name and made his way out of the room and stalked to the console room. He looked at the ceiling and the TARDIS hummed in concern. “Is this what you meant? The bloodline was at risk because of Kovarian getting involved?”</p><p><em> ‘Yes.’ </em>The Master let out another groan. </p><p>He knew of Kovarian and her obsession with keeping the Doctor silent. The Order of the Silence; what a stupid name. </p><p>The Master could, arguably, feel threatened by the woman but merely because she rivalled his hyper fixation with the Doctor and would go to the same lengths as he would’ve to see the Doctor destroyed. That was something he’d have to change soon; no one can destroy the Doctor, she was his, all his. Even if Kovarian was part of his mate’s far past, she was now tampering with the future and to the Master, that meant it was also tampering with his future. Her fear was reasonable (the Time Lord’s were horrifying in their power and he did not want to see their return) but her actions towards his mate weren't. </p><p>He had reached the console room and he started to press buttons and flipping switches, pausing here and there as he thought out his next move. </p><p>He needs the Doctor on his TARDIS. </p><p>“She wanted answers,” the Master spoke to himself and the TARDIS gave her usual hum. “I want to know what they’re planning. It’s a win-win scenario.” He placed the coordinates for the fifth room on the first floor of the manor, getting ready to pick the Doctor up and sort out whatever bullshit was happening. His hand was on the dematerialisation lever and the TARDIS gave out warning beeps and wails but it was too late. He pushed it down and the ship was sent into the Vortex with no shielding and no life-support. Beforehand, the TARDIS has been pumping oxygen from the outside air instead of actually producing it and now, the air had grown thin, circuits trying to move any leftover air back to the console room but </p><p>The console blew up under the stress and the Master was thrown backwards, his back hitting a wall. He felt a crack somewhere along his ribs and a stabbing ache made its presence known. <em> Right, two, maybe three broken ribs. Nothing I can’t handle.  </em></p><p>Wires were now dangling everywhere with sparks spitting out of the uncovered ends and the ship lurched side-to-side. <em> The ship's destabilising. Gods, I should’ve listened to the damn thing in the first place and done the fucking repairs.  </em></p><p>With shaky legs and an arm wrapped around his waist, the Master hobbled towards the red glow. He was two metres away from his destination but the room wouldn’t stop shifting and spinning, making his journey much more arduous than it should’ve been. He had to bat away some of the wires in his way and nearly tripped over opened hatches and fallen sheets of metal, jostling his ribs whenever he tried to stabilise himself. </p><p>
  <em> Come on, Koschei. Do it for Theta.  </em>
</p><p>The Master groaned one more time before he managed to get the bloody console and pulled himself around to look at a display screen and gave a choked out laugh, tears not threatening the corner of his eyes. A hollow feeling gathered in his chest and he gripped the edge of the console, knuckles turning white. Definitely fear this time. </p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut as the room continued to burn and explode around him. It shouldn’t end here, he wasn’t meant to die in his TARDIS. What about Theta? </p><p>“What about her?!” He yelled out into the burning time machine. He sunk to his knees, hand hanging low as he slipped into their bond. </p><p>It was silent in the way all bonds were if their timelines were out of sync. </p><p><em> ‘I’m sorry, </em> ’ he whispered into space. ‘ <em> I love you. </em>’</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>American waters, near the coast of New York, February 1874. </b>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Je t’aime.’ </em>
</p><p><em> ‘I love you.’ </em> </p><p>She wasn’t sure when the second set of words had been uttered but they sure did haunt her just as much as the first ones. She knew the voice that muttered ‘I love you’ as the one who had bonded her to him against her will and then left her alone in her time of need now that she thinks about it. </p><p>The Ghost hated the Master with a burning passion. </p><p>It was a shame he had died. Revenge would never be hers. No matter the regeneration or where the Master was in his timeline, she was going to kill him. </p><p>Sleep was now impossible as those great words brought up emotions and memories the Ghost had taken so long to repress so, with a cat-like stretch, she shook herself awake and kicked off the sheets. Her back ached and her neck felt stiff but a little stretching and cracking of bones (though two specific parts of her back, between her shoulder blades, continued to throb), she felt right as rain and aware enough to read the time on the clock. </p><p>Four-thirteen in the morning.</p><p>“Fucking hell,” she groaned out before flopping back against the bed. So much time to waste and nothing to do but stare at a ceiling or a wall. </p><p>The steamboat she was on was due to dock in New York at nine o’clock with breakfast being served from six-thirty to eight. The past two months had been torture and the Ghost was all too ready to be on dry land, away from all the noisy humans she’s had to spend a ridiculous amount of time with. </p><p><em> Time…such a funny little thing. </em> </p><p>Ever since her interesting encounter with the Vortex four decades, the Ghost’s timekeeping was immaculate (like all other Time Lords) has reached new heights. Some days, if she felt in the mood for it, she could touch an object and know it’s past, it’s present and it’s future; the timelines were all so clear to her now, better than they had been when she was Eyebrows or Pinstripes. </p><p>Every Time Lord could sense the time streams but the Ghost felt more than she did as any other of her forms; she<em> saw </em>more. </p><p>It was a power she was rather apathetic towards. </p><p>This new ability was annoying in the way a buzzing fly is, always there and so hard to stop but it also gave her pleasure, the shifting time streams rolling through her body making every bone quake. It was even better when she changed the direction of some of the streams. A little knock to the side could cause a whole family to divert from becoming the leading company of renewable energy to beggars that would die in five years from hunger. </p><p>She was a god among mortals and Earth was her playground. That thought made her feel even more lonely than usual. </p><p>She looked at the clock again and sighed before turning onto her side. <em> Four hours and forty-five minutes until I can start a new but dull chapter of my life.  </em></p><p>The Ghost rolled onto her stomach, nuzzling her face into blankets and pillows, not noticing the brief flash of gold light emanating from her back nor the little, fluffy cream feather that floated slowly down to the floor. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all your love and sticking through this with me. We are finally at the Wild West woohoo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Sillage Problem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Silage:<br/>(N): the impression made in space when someone has been and gone</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Ghost liked black. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To the idiots of eighteen-seventy Earth, it meant that she was a widow, somebody intimately connected to death. And she was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Watching your planet burn by your own hand had immediately reinstated the Doctor as Death’s acolyte. She, then he, watched friends and lovers die whether from age to aliens to wiping their minds of memories. The Doctor had let so many people down, running away from the horrible truth that they would continue to watch those he loved die. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ghost accepted this truth with an empty yet agreeable heart. People were scared of death and thus they would be scared of her, not willing to engage her in the annoying act of chit chat. The veil she wore covered her look of disgust towards humanity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She should’ve been the Master. She should’ve given into her basic needs of violence and bloodshed from the start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She should’ve taken pride in Torvic’s killing. Theta should’ve said yes to be Death’s bitch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ghost sighed and looked herself over in the floor length mirror. Yes, she has had quite a dramatic style change in the past few decades. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Jeanne’s death, the Doctor knew deep down she wouldn’t be the same. The demise of the Master being the catalyst for her shift from soft pastels to black. Everything and anything was now black. It was clean, it was tidy and she didn’t need to worry about stains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some days, she still felt that bone deep ache at the loss of her mate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flattening her petticoat and chemise down, the Ghost began to tighten her corset till the point she achieved the desired silhouette. Human aesthetics were outdated and dangerous and yet the corset was something so undeniably sexy and dark it further expanded the concept that the Doctor was dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both her male and female lovers yearned to untie the ribbons and gain access to all of her pale flesh but the Ghost would not allow that. She tried to convince herself that it was for power she kept it on during sex but in reality, the Master was the one to undress her all those nights ago, dept hands loosening the piece of fabric. His touch was forever burned into the Ghost’s body and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>ached </span>
  </em>
  <span>to feel him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a paradox to both hate him and yet love him, wanting to erase his existence from the universe but keep him as close to her as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps the black she wore was also because she was in a perpetual state of mourning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on the cabin door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enter.” Her Yorkshire accent was always there but the Ghost had gotten ever so good at hiding it. Right now, she had a well-bred English accent, something that would’ve made Madame Vastra proud of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m nearly there. Ten years to go and I’m out of here. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A servant boy was carrying a tray of breakfast and placed it on the small table by the port hole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, George.” The boy had been the one to listen to her needs the entire boat journey had admittedly she would miss him. Though it would be in the form of missing your pet you left at home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything else, Missus?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, that will be all,” the Ghost dismissed George with a flurry of her hand and the small human backed out of the room and left with a bow. The thing about the Victorian age was that they used a lot of child labour. George, being an orphan, managed to find himself a decent job, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>job and though he wouldn’t have a childhood, he was alive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That shouldn’t make her hearts clench.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Orphan...alone...tired...where’s my mummy? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t necessarily a vision but it made her head pound and lights dance across her eyes. She knew what a vision was. She’s had them so many times in the recent past. No. The images of a little girl, drowning in yellow and loneliness were more like...like...like the past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she knew her past, right? The story of the Ghost was linear (about as linear as one could get with Time Lords and time travel) and her past had a clear starting point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spend the many years like she has in isolation, thinking and tossing and turning over thoughts and suddenly the world didn’t make sense, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>universe </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t add up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mulling over thoughts and previous adventures, little tiny things didn’t add up. How she had survived impossible adventures and thought her way through impossible situations that not even the smartest of Time Lords could conceive of. Somethings may have been down to Clara-echoes watching her back but others-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there was something else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Time Lords could sense time streams, taste the minute changes in the time continuum but the Ghost could see the past, present and future in extraordinary detail that surpassed even the more adept of her species. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If she focused hard enough now, she could see the moment the walnut tree in which the desk was made from grow from a sapling to an ancient monument. The Ghost could feel the muscles of the carpenter ache with the strain of carving out the desk legs. She could taste the smoke as the desk burns in the wreckage of the ship sinking into the Atlantic in flames. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Destruction always had the best flavour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at the breakfast tray and lifted up the cover, a waft of bacon hitting her senses and making her gag. She had no need nor desire to eat and had forcibly fed herself the previous night to appease the table she sat at last night. Being a Time Lord meant that her body was very efficient and didn’t need as much fueling as humans which poses an issue since she’s living amongst them. But, after several decades, the Ghost had learnt that one dinner party a week was enough to appease humans and that she wouldn’t need to eat for the next week or so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She opened the port hole and promptly threw the meal out. Sure, there were hungry people on this very ship and the Doctor would’ve snuck down to the lower levels on multiple occasions and handed out the slices of bacon, eggs and toast but she wasn’t the Doctor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The salt breeze wafted through, chlorine, sodium, calcium all burning the Ghost’s nose. There was the sharp tang at the back of her throat, rapidly rising pollutant levels creating an almost unbearable aftertaste. Humans. They had no idea what they were destroying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even in the age of exploration, Darwinism and horticulture, humans were disgustingly destructive. How many species of animal went extinct due to the Victorian’s fetish for taxidermy? The Ghost can remember traveling back in time, when she was the blonde man with the celery stick, and went on a personal mission to see an extinct parrot, the Cuban Maccaw. It was a stunning creature, it’s plumage akin to a sunset, all so bright and vibrant to the point that the drawings made of it could never do the bird justice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked to the clock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An hour until disembarkment. Only an hour longer,” she sighed to herself and flopped backwards onto the bed. Immediately, the Ghost regretted the decision as she felt aches along her back throb with a burning hatred. Gingerly, she sat up again and the pain disappeared. The Time Lord laid down again and the reaction was the same. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down until the Ghost could say with confidence that there was something wrong with her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question wasn’t what or how or why but “could I be bothered undressing?” With only an hour until disembarkment, the answer was no. So, with another deep, bored exhale, the Ghost picked up a book (Pride and Prejudice, an original copy) and began reading, her back ramrod straight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a knock at the door soon thereafter and George entered her room when beckoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would miss him. A wicked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wicked </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought came to her mind but, she was a Time Lord amongst mortals, a god if you would and she needed a little project. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George,” started the Ghost, dropping the accent immediately. The boy started at the change in her voice but listened. “How’s your life here? On the boat?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, Miss. Better than anything I could ask for. Coming from my background an’ all that. The company been real kind to give me a job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm, yes but is this what you want to do for the rest of your life? I would wager no.” There was a slight hypnotism laced in her voice. Nothing harmful and nothing as malicious as </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Master </span>
  </em>
  <span>would use but enough that the human felt comfortable to speak the truth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, miss. Not at all. They wouldn’t let me learn to be a cap’n an’ being a service boy ain’t all that, miss. Nah, I want adventure,” spoke George. The Ghost smiled, remembering a certain female copper all those years ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then, George, I can offer you an adventure. I can give you a life you could only dream of. All you have to do is </span>
  <em>
    <span>obey</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Alright, that last word had a little more hypnotic weight to it but too many of her last companions and pets had died merely because they wouldn’t listen to her and she intended to keep George around for a long time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She released her grasp on him and George shook himself subconsciously. Humans always were somehow aware of hypnotism; look at Jo Grant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You serious, miss? I can come with you?” The Ghost smiled at the boy, her hearts fluttering in an almost maternal manner at the joy on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t. Go pack your bags, boy, and I’ll meet you on the harbour when we offload.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s original task, probably to collect the breakfast tray and to see if she required any help packing, was left forgotten as he ran out of the room. The Ghost couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boat let out a loud noise as people of all ages and sizes flew down the ramp. It was noisy and loud and the Ghost kept feeling multiple timelines converge around her as couples and families embraced. Other timelines danced with opportunities as immigrants touched American soil for the first time. It was intoxicating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ghost’s luggage had already been offloaded and George, Pythia bless him, was rocking on his heels apprehensively besides the suitcases. He was searching all around for her, readjusting his flat cap in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spotted her. It wasn’t hard, she was dressed in all black and a light veil covered her face making her stand out like a sore thumb amongst the pale fabrics of the other women. . He waved her over and a snarling male voice echoed in her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Walk away from him. He’s not worth it. You’ll get attached and he’ll become another Jeanne.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m not like you, Master. We are </span>
  </em>
  <span>nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>alike.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No, dear wife, we are the same.’ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The phantom breath on the back of her neck made the hairs stand up, a tingling running down her spine. It had been years since she felt his lips on her skin and though she had a very valid vendetta, the Ghost still yearned for her husband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked over to the human boy, a slight shudder in her step that he noticed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything alright, miss?” The Ghost nodded, patting the boy on the shoulder and motioned for a porter to come to their aid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Peachy. Just low blood sugar.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can get the bags taken to the hotel and then head to the tea room!” The human child was like a puppy, bounding and rocking on his feet with his hands clasped behind his hands. The Ghost smiled at him, remembering her children and her grand-children. They may have had her wifes stoic DNA within them but they still bounced at the thought of learning something new. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The </span>
  </em>
  <span>tea room? You’ve been here before then?” A porter collected their bags and together, George and the Ghost walked beside one another towards a taxi, her hand resting on the child’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, miss. Always been on the Southampton to New York route since I started,” he explained, a proud grin on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then, Mr George, we shall go to the hotel, leave our bags and head to this tea room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, it was nice having a pet by her side. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the long wait and I’m sorry it’s so short! It’s one of those moments when having a new chapter would be easier so this is a transition chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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